Originally published at
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The cool air of fall whispers gently through the aspens.
Winter takes in its breath, fluttering the leaves, preparing itself for its months of work.
Summer packs her bags and dusts the window sills.
Her boxes are packed and, like a proud and lonely widow, she prepares her yard for a last good-bye feast. Fall crunches up the pathway and joins her in the kitchen, bundled in blankets, sipping on hot chocolate with mittened fingers. During the day he takes out his paintbrush and sweeps it across the trees, preparing for the good-bye, and flushing Summer’s cheeks with crisp morning air.
Then slowly, as guests enjoy her last rays of warm sunshine and bare shoulders, Summer slips out the back door while no one is watching.
She starts her car and dries her eyes. She rumbles softly down the road on a whisp of wind. And even in the midst of her memories that mix inside her with a swirl of sadness and laughter, her heart begins burning with the heat of expectation for the next year.
I blow her a kiss goodbye.
And Goodbye’s are a promise of another hello.