Letting go

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Taking advantage of my insomnious mind that is spreading its state to my eyes, here it goes… Some hours ago, in a fine afternoon of those ones who invite for a walk, I ended up in front of the house of my long ago neighbor, my friend. One of those friends you don’t see often, but every time you get together it seems like not much time has passed after all.

It was a short visit, a talk of usual and not so usual subjects, surrounded by the falling paint in the concrete stairs outside, and the wild growing grass beside them. Among what we talked, a short story I bring forth…

Summer was approaching in places not so far north of the equator. Days were getting dryer, rains were starting to stop; but Winter was having a hard time letting go.

Fight scenes were woven. Water would fall from the sky in the middle of sunny warm days. Birds would noisily protest the constant struggle, while following the path to their far, wet, heated new stage. Temperatures would rise and fall at chance’s will. Winds would blow, whispering, announcing their time had come.

Winter glimpsed at blooming flowers, filled dams, singing birds, growing trees… cared for them so much! They all grew from seeds, from bits, from dreams, to something Winter hadn’t known before, a materialized feeling that was both part of him and not. How could he go? Back in may he had come; so soon weeks had come and gone. Winter wanted to be there for their sunset and dawn; but then again, there were the saturated soils…

Tired, defeated, but with remaining hope, Winter decided to finally let go. As a new season, he would be reborn.

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