For so long, I knew only a kind of seasonal love – one where stormy tempers coated our vibrant branches in ice, suffocating the leaves and petals yearning to thrive. My roots lay frozen, sealed in a harsh grip of cold, waiting for the sporadic warmth of spring to allow for a fleeting kiss. Each moment of peace felt precarious, threatened by looming storms, while our gardens were overrun with weeds and toxic growth that thrived in the harshest conditions.
I believed, deeply, that this was the essence of love: a relentless cycle of highs and lows, where consistency was a fantasy. I waited for the sun to rise for a compliment, always aware that at any moment, a storm could leave me stranded in the chilling depths of dissatisfaction and anger, overshadowed by the anxiety of when the light might return.
It never crossed my mind that a world could exist free of those endless nights – that a love could be steady, where warmth outlasted cold. I didn’t imagine that the closest I’d come to darkness would be a gentle sunset, soon replaced by the reassuring embrace of light, constant and unwavering.
Now, as I stand in this new love, I can feel the leaves returning. I see the flowers beginning to bloom, and for the first time, I believe weeding is a worthy effort. He’s here beside me, armed with a hoe, a water bottle, and sunscreen – reminding me that we have the power to shape our garden together. Even in the chill, he brings me a blanket, and we keep nurturing our shared space. My hands are steady, my heart at peace, and the roots? They’re not dead; they’re simply warming back to life.
My spring sun, my sweet man, my beautiful life – I’m ready for you. I’ve been waiting a long time.
CaliStray 