The river is frozen as far as the eye can see. Snow is expected for this evening, as winter tightens its grip on southern Maryland. Far from the extreme weather of some regions, this is relatively mild, but still a sharp contrast to the spring and summer. I enjoy the distinct change of seasons. It gives the rhythm of a life a more well-defined feel.
The change in weather, flora, fauna, and scenery is much needed after a few months of “normalcy.” The monotony of typical days blending into one another deserves a shaking. Each season has its own unique mix of colors, sounds, and feels. Which one of them is the most enjoyable, is, of course, a matter of preference.
The changing of seasons is representative of the broader wavelength of a lifetime in which all four are broken into quarter centuries or so. This depends on a person’s state of mind, health, and general life expectancy, but it as if one can predict with reasonable accuracy which season they, and indeed others are going through. I like to think that I am still sprouting in the spring of my years, but to be certain, as I approach 30, I am reminded that I am basking in the summer of my life.
My perspective convinces me that I will enjoy a lengthy spring, summer, and fall; and I will only allow winter to come during the last few weeks of my days on earth. An entire season of life occupied with cold, harshness, and the end seems to be depressing at best, and morbid at worst. It is strange to look back on the spring of my life and shuffle through the memories I have created. They are already so fleeting. Why is it that life seems to race by, and we can only catch glimpses that we must try to hang onto with a concerted effort?
I suppose that if we remembered everything, which includes much of the boring things which occupy the spaces between magnanimous occasions, it would dampen our minds with monotony. Brushing our teeth, bathing, driving, walking to and fro, reading, shopping, swimming, exercising. We have done these thousands of times, yet I can count how many of these occasions stand out to me on one hand; typically because of a freakish incident unrelated to the action.
It will be interesting to look back on the spring, summer, and fall of my years. How much of them will I actually remember? Will they be as bleak as the landscape upon which I am currently looking? Gray, drab, and vague? Writing things down, and capturing events digitally seems to be the only preventative measure which will ensure our capability to recall our fleeting moments on this planet; especially as we age. For now, I think I’ll enjoy the summer, and keep winter at bay for as long as I possibly can.