Seasons

The Seasons

Caroline Hart, 11 years old

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. The low-hanging clouds looked like smoke rising from the burning leaves. Where there was sky, it was red with anger, where it met the fire reaching up from the trees. Under the clouds, however, the sky cried fat tears, but even with the cries of the sky, the leaves remained as flickering flames. Under the press of rain, the trees quivered and gradually shed their cloak of leaves, which then lay on the ground as flames. A vigorous wind punched me in the stomach, and gnarly roots protruded from the balding ground. Soon the sky opened up, and forked lightning split it into two. The brooding, gray clouds painted across the angry, red sky mirrored the mood of the land, as life dropped around me. It was as if the world had given up. I screamed. I know it didn’t help, but I felt better doing something rather than doing nothing at all.

The sun hid herself behind a cloud and the moon refused to come out. The dirt was hard against my feet. So, I shifted and turned around. A pile of soot lay where my neighborhood once stood. I couldn’t bear to see the damage. Blocking out the desperate howls from the wind and mourning cries from the sky, I walked forward. 

Suddenly I felt soft ground, surprised I looked down to find white snow. The world turned dark and stars danced in the sky. The moon slipped from a cloud, and all became still. Streams froze, and it felt as if time did too.  A brush of cool wind crawled up my body, I shivered. The light of the moon glistened off of the snow that had started to seep through my toes. I clenched my jacket closer and I shut my eyes. Ice clung to the leafless trees, almost hugging them. The breeze made a whistling sound; its melody dominating the landscape. Soon it stopped and all became silent. All were afraid to disrupt the noiseless world. I was afraid that if I did anything, something could go wrong. So, I did nothing. And I liked doing nothing until the stars asked what my purpose was. When I didn’t have an answer, I curled into a ball. All was quiet, all was lonely. I longed for more life, for even though life could be chaotic, it was never lonely. And at least chaos was something, something to fix or even to cause more chaos. At least chaos gave me a purpose. My feet left indents in the snow and marked a trail behind me. My trail was my only true companion here. I hadn’t heard my voice in a long time—I longed for a friend, so I decided to move forward. As I walked through the beautiful snow, I said goodbye to stillness.

 After a long time of walking, the sun revealed her face inflamed with passion for life and radiating heat. She shot her rays at the snow, and as it evaporated away, blades of grass sprung from the moist ground. 

Daffodils and sunflowers covered the land, and trees stood proudly smiling at me. Butterflies greeted me as I walked past, and houses entangled in vines, stood with nature instead of on top of it. A smile was born in the world, and life sprung from its roots. The sun was willing to share her time with the moon but lingered longer day by day as a pleasant guest. A rainbow appeared in the sky, and ended in a golden horizon. Roses overwhelmed their thorns in bloom, and the sweet smell of fresh berries refreshed the air.  Trees teeming with leaves offered me shade, and a home for others, and no one was sad. After a while I had become accustomed to the luxurious life, and I stopped appreciating it. I forgot the bad times, and my expectations became too high. Before warmth and accompaniment was all I had ever wanted, but now it was not enough. For you see when all is made perfect, the perfect is no longer perfect anymore, it is just normal. I forced myself to leave paradise.

After a short journey, the sun began burning my face. She hogged everyone's attention and squeezed herself through the branches of the trees. The earth was no longer soft, and the clouds, too afraid to get in the sun’s way, hid. Everything in the sun’s path sagged and wrinkled, I did not want to become like them. I was scared she would find me, so I, like the clouds, stayed far away from her. She was angry and burned anyone who stood in her way. The world deceived me, for from the outside it looked beautiful, but once I saw the inside, its anger shriveled me into a raisin. The sun’s piercing stare shot onto my back and stopped me from feeling an ounce of security. Everything was too dry, and too wet at the same time. I longed for rain but hated being soaked in sweat every day. I could never make my own choices, because I had experienced the worst of both. Or so it seemed. I became tired quickly, but the sun never seemed to sleep. She would rest late at night and arrive early in the morning, and never was late. I wished to leave the heat behind and hoped that one day the sun would be tired too. When the constant light made my skin turn red, and my clothes were plastered to my body through heat and sweat, I could only lay down and hope to wake in a more temperate world.

But before I drifted away, a slight breeze lifted me up. And soon again the sun and wind lit the leaves on fire, but this fire came with cool winds, as the heat faded. The sky turned red, but this time, I appreciated the chaos. It wasn’t lonely, and it wasn’t boring, but I still couldn’t wait until the stillness approached again. For it was the cycle, or the change, that made me see and appreciate all the little things.