The Seasons of Life

Every year it’s the same old thing, the same old litany.
Excitement in April, sadness in September. Time to increase the antidepressant.
I keep those flannel sheets at bay as long as I can, until I finally have to cover the mattress with what is, I have to admit, a rather welcoming defense against the cold.
Oh, winter has its perks before and during Christmas. The lights go up, the house feels warm, and for a little while even the cold seems festive.
Then the fun is over.
January arrives bitter and gray, and spring seems miles away.
But we turn on the logs and pour up a little bourbon. We have some friends over, settle in, and bide our time until porch sittin’ comes around again.
And it always does.
I have not one thing to complain about.
The seasons of the year come and go, just as the seasons of life flow quietly into one another. Some are warm and easy. Some make us pull the covers a little tighter.
But through them all, I’m with the love of my life.
And when you have that, even January isn’t so bad.

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