The heat of summer reminds of me of my childhood in the tropical sun, always alone. The winds of autumn remind me of going back to high school, a world of unfulfilled promise and trite but deadly teen aged pain. The cold of winter keeps me trapped in the New England, where my spirit cried for leaving. Only springtime is the season of my adult heart, belonging to the person I have become.
Originally published at jlake.com. You can comment here or there.