My fiancé was right. Seasons really do make a difference in how you experience life.
Before moving to New York in December of 2016, we spent the prior three years in South Florida where there are two seasons: hot as $%*&, which covers 85% of the calendar year, and pleasant, which happens for maybe six weeks between January and February and accounts for the remaining 15%.
Don’t get me wrong, with the exception of getting caught in the pop-up rainstorms that happen almost daily, I loved South Florida weather. It’s what I grew up with. But it does make it hard to keep up with the passing of time. One month melts into the next with no obvious clues from Mother Nature that the year is flying on by.
I remember Johnny saying he felt like he was caught in a time warp. We’d talk about fun things we’d done, but neither of us could remember if it happened two months or two years ago.
Now that I’m living somewhere with four distinct seasons, I have to admit it does make everyday life a little more exciting. Because there’s a limited window for sunbathing, that first warm day when you can leave the house in a tank top feels like the best thing since boxed wine. Because you can’t ski all year long, you have something great to look forward to when the thermometer makes that first terrifying dip below 30.
Between the changing weather, the holiday cheer and the wedding preparations kicking into overdrive, I feel like I’m currently riding a crazy high that’s going to last until February.
I can’t believe Halloween already came and went and Thanksgiving is next week (what the actual F). After that, we’ve got NYC reunions with two sets of good friends, Johnny’s birthday, and the weeklong haze of twinkle lights and spiked hot chocolate that stretches between Christmas and New Year’s. Then we’ll blink and it will be our wedding.
At the risk of sounding like a complete sap, I’m soaking in all of the good vibes right now and I just feel so damn lucky.
Looking back, 2016 was a rough year. John was job searching, which was tougher than both of us anticipated. I was burned out from biting off way more than I could chew with work. I had health issues. I had debt issues. One of my closest aunts passed away. Donald fucking Trump, enough said. It was not the best of times.
I had no idea what the next month or even the next week would bring. I felt like I was living in a weird, frustrating limbo. At this time last year, I felt like something had to give or I might lose it. It’s crazy what a difference a year makes.
I know everything won’t always be sunshine and rainbows, and I know the hard times I’ve experienced are nothing compared to real struggle. But they do make this time in my life—which is already pretty dang sweet, what with its cozy little brick apartment and color-changing leaves and box of wedding invitations waiting to be sent out—feel that much sweeter.
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