The seasons of my life haven't always followed nature’s calendar. They come quietly, sometimes without asking, and sometimes long before I feel prepared. Just like the earth’s rotation, each season brought its own unique weather, its own brightness, storms, and harvests. When I look back, I realize that every season, even the coldest winter, contained the seeds of what was to come next. Spring was the season of firsts.
Those were the years of scraped knees and boundless possibilities. I remember running across playground fields as if the entire horizon belonged just to me. Back then, time seemed to stretch endlessly, with a single afternoon feeling like it could last forever. I truly believed I could be anyone, like a teacher, an astronaut, a writer, a lawyer. Sometimes all in one week! I’ll never forget how I wanted to be a baseball player after hitting a home run while playing stickball with a broken broomstick and a tennis ball we found. As I got a few years older and played on the team, I realized I didn’t enjoy sitting in the sun; it was just too hot in center field. And I remember my first kiss, with a girl taller than me!
Spring was learning how to ride a bike without training wheels. My father’s hand steadied the seat as I wobbled down the sidewalk. I can still hear him shouting, “Keep going!” When I realized, he had let go, and I was riding on my own, fear and freedom collided in my chest. That moment became a pattern for my life. Someone guides you for a while, and then, suddenly, you are pedaling alone.
Spring was also the first sting of disappointment. Baseball wasn’t what I thought it would be. Forgetting lines in a school play. Losing a friendship over something that now seems small. Finding out that your first love wasn’t in love with you. Yet even those hurts felt temporary. In spring, tears dry quickly. The world felt mostly safe.
That season felt truly innocent. I believed that people genuinely meant what they said and that hard work would always lead to rewards. I hadn’t yet realized how complex things could be. The world still held many difficulties, especially because of the color of our skin. There were places we couldn’t visit for food or fun. Hurtful names were spoken and sometimes used against each other when we were upset. Even the fact that we attended different schools and received different teaching reflected the very different Spring of my life.
Summer arrived with intensity. This was the season of ambition, identity, and heat. The years when emotions ran high, and everything felt urgent. Friendships deepened. Dreams sharpened. I began to ask not just “What can I be?” but “Who am I?” I’ve discovered that having a purpose can really encourage me to step outside of my comfort zone and uncover strengths and talents I didn’t even realize I had. It’s been an inspiring journey of self-discovery.
Summer brought late-night conversations that carried on past midnight, filled with dreams and plans. It was about chasing your goals with a brave and fearless heart. I remember starting my first real job, feeling tired but proud of earning my own money. I learned the importance of showing up, even when I didn’t feel like it, because responsibility gently took the place of spring’s carefree freedom. It taught me to be accountable for my actions, to be brave enough to apologize when needed, and to acknowledge others’ efforts. It might have been the right thing to do, but I’ll tell you, it wasn’t always easy. Life certainly doesn’t always go according to plan.
Love entered my life during the summer, bright and blazing like the sun. I fondly recalled my first kiss and the many moments when my heart raced for someone special. It was a little like standing too close to a bonfire. Exciting yet a bit risky. From these experiences, I learned that love could inspire us to grow and become better, but it can also leave us feeling a little burnt when things don't work out. I also realized that I was still going through puberty and wasn’t quite ready to take on adult responsibilities. Sometimes I focused more on bragging and bravado than on preparing myself to become a true man.
Summer was also the season of mistakes. I said words I couldn’t take back. I trusted the wrong people. I pushed myself too hard and sometimes confused busyness with purpose. This was a time to prepare for my last year in high school. What is next for me? Now is the time to decide. My dreams when I was younger were nothing but dreams. My plans had too many loose ends, and I didn’t know how to tie them together. But like the long days of sunlight, summer gave me energy to try again. This was the season when I began defining success for myself. Not the version handed to me by teachers or parents, but the one shaped by my own values. I started to understand that growth often requires discomfort, just as crops need both sun and rain.
Autumn arrived quietly, almost unnoticed at first. It didn’t come with loud storms or obvious signs, but through gentle changes—priorities shifting, relationships growing, and dreams becoming clearer. I remember losing my grandmother, who was more than just a family member. She was my confidant and guide. She listened as I shared all my hopes and dreams. My parents, busy with work, did their best to support us. They loved us deeply and wanted to stay connected, but their schedules left little time. We managed with part-time jobs and small savings to buy what we needed, and they made sure we had what was essential. When my grandmother passed away, it felt like my energy was drained completely.
Back then, many believed that deaths often came in threes. That autumn, I experienced the loss of an aunt and a first cousin, which was incredibly hard for me. Even as an adult, I still remember that belief vividly. Sometimes, I would avoid answering the phone simply because I needed some quiet space. I had three close friends I trusted deeply. More than even my own brothers. They truly felt like family, and I always felt safest with them. I’d go out without my brothers because I was concerned that they might say or do something that could get me into trouble. My older brother and sister understood why I didn’t want my younger brothers tagging along all the time, and honestly, it made sense not to have them constantly following me around.
Autumn was moving away from what felt familiar. I went off to boarding school. Packing boxes. Saying goodbye to people and places that had once defined me. I remember standing in the hallway after everything had been moved out, listening to the echo of my own footsteps. I didn’t know that echo was the sound of change. In this season, I learned the art of letting go. Not every friendship was meant to last forever. Not every dream needed to be chased indefinitely. Some goals, I realized, belonged to an earlier version of me. Being away from home, I grew up fast. Autumn brought maturity. I became more reflective. I began asking deeper questions: What truly matters? What legacy do I want to leave? I found myself choosing peace over drama, depth over distraction.
Yes, Autumn brought some losses of certainty, illusions, and even loved ones at times. But it also brought a wonderful sense of clarity. I discovered more about people, different cultures, and races. I realized that color often reflects perception more than true character and integrity. Just like trees shed their leaves to save energy for winter, I learned to let go of what no longer served me. One moment that stands out is when a career path I once believed was permanent started to feel out of sync with who I was becoming. Walking away was truly scary, but it was also the first time I chose long-term happiness over short-term security. That choice changed everything that came after. Autumn taught me that endings aren’t failures. They’re simply new beginnings and transitions.
After graduating from high school, I eagerly began college, preparing for a future as a lawyer. I took all the necessary courses and had big dreams of being the best. A few summers later, I proudly graduated. Just before starting law school, my mother shared the difficult news that Pop and she were getting a divorce. Heartfelt and uncertain, I decided to join the military instead of continuing straight to law school, knowing my mom would need all the support she could get. Sometimes, life’s unexpected turns remind us that trying to outmaneuver God's plans is futile. I accepted the fact that it doesn’t matter what season we face, challenges are in all of them. I wasn’t a child anymore.
Winter was the hardest season to embrace. It was the time of quiet battles. The ones fought internally, where no one else can see the snow piling up. There were moments of doubt. Moments when progress felt frozen. Times when I questioned whether the previous seasons had led me anywhere meaningful. Winter was a period of waiting. Waiting for answers. Waiting for healing. Waiting for doors to open. It felt slow, sometimes painfully so. But winter also forced me inward. Without the distractions of constant activity, I had to confront myself. My fears, my insecurities, my unresolved grief. I learned resilience not through triumph, but through endurance. During my winter holidays, I had the wonderful opportunity to spend time with families from different cultures and backgrounds. It truly opened my eyes and mind, showing me that despite our different skin colors, we all share the same hopes for peace, security, and happiness. Reflecting on the Jim Crow era, I realize I held misconceptions, and I'm now committed to reshaping my perspective with greater understanding and compassion.
I discovered the power of small routines. Taking morning walks, journaling, and quiet reflection. These became my internal fireplace during cold days. I realized that strength doesn’t always look like bold action. Sometimes it looks like getting out of bed when you don’t feel like it. Sometimes it looks like choosing hope when cynicism would be easier. Winter showed me that rest is not weakness. It is preparation.
Spring has a special way of making us feel hopeful and refreshed, doesn't it? It's like a gentle promise that after the gray skies and heavy mornings, brighter days are on their way. This year, Spring didn't just bring nicer weather outside my window; it also rekindled something deep inside me. It added a touch of freshness to my daily routine, encouraged growth in my dreams, and brought warmth back to my spirit, reminding me of the beauty of new beginnings.
During the long winter months, I found myself feeling a bit dull and stuck in a routine. I would wake up later than usual, hurriedly get through my day’s tasks, and carry a weariness with me wherever I went. The trees outside stood bare, and strangely, I felt the same, lacking in motivation and vibrancy. Each day seemed to merge into the next. Sometimes, I’d catch myself gazing up at the pale sky, quietly hoping for something to shift and bring a little change.
One morning, I noticed the tiniest sign. A slender green shoot had emerged from the soil near the sidewalk. It looked delicate but showed incredible resilience. That small plant quietly reminded me that even something so fragile can break through cold, hard ground, inspiring me to believe I could also overcome my own heaviness. That afternoon, instead of mindlessly scrolling on my phone at home, I decided to take a leisurely walk in the park. The air was fresh and vibrant, and the birds seemed to sing with a renewed energy, as if celebrating a fresh start. I felt my lungs fill not just with air, but with a sense of hope and possibility.
As the days got longer, I noticed my energy pick up, and I started waking up earlier just to catch the sunrise. That beautiful golden light spreading across the sky was a gentle reminder that each new day offers a fresh start, no matter how dark the night might have been. I tidied up my room, opened the windows wide, and let the refreshing breeze chase away any stuffy, stale air. Cleaning and organizing my space felt like clearing away mental clutter, too. With every drawer I neatly arranged and each surface I wiped down, I felt a little lighter and more energized.
Spring inspired me to nurture growth both around me and within me. I started a small garden in my backyard, planting tomatoes, basil, and marigolds. Digging my hands into the soil felt grounding, connecting me to something steady and real. At first, nothing seemed to happen, but gradually, green leaves began to sprout. Watching them grow taught me patience. Reminding me that growth takes time, care, sunlight, and persistence. Similarly, I started taking better care of my personal goals. I signed up for an online course I had been putting off for months and returned to journaling, pouring my thoughts onto paper instead of letting them weigh on my heart.
I vividly remember one special afternoon. I was sitting under a beautiful cherry tree in the park, its delicate pink petals floating around me like confetti. Nearby laughter filled the air, and everything looked softer and more colorful. In that moment, I felt a deep connection with the tree. Once it was bare, but now it was blossoming just like my own spirit. The worries that had weighed me down before felt lighter, shrinking away like shadows under bright sunlight.
Spring brought such a wonderful boost to my relationships! The warm evenings became perfect for cozy chats on porches and enjoyable walks with friends. I found myself happily accepting invitations and reaching out to those I hadn't spoken to in a while. Laughter seemed to flow so easily once again, reminding me that friendships, like gardens, need love and care to grow. A simple message or sharing a cup of tea can truly help rekindle a distant bond. I even met a young woman who shares my interests, and we connected so well that we decided to marry and nurture those passions together, even having children to keep our family growing and loving legacy.
Most importantly, spring truly transformed the way I see things. It helped me realize that challenges are like the seasons; they come and go, rather than lasting forever. Winter isn’t endless; it’s just paving the way for new beginnings. Similarly, those tough times aren’t failures but chances to grow and start fresh. This season showed me the power of resilience, the comforting idea that warmth always returns after the cold.
Whenever I look outside and see trees dressed in vibrant green and flowers reaching happily toward the sun, I can't help but feel a gentle sense of gratitude. Spring didn't magically fix all my problems, but it served as a beautiful reminder of my ability to grow and flourish. It returned with a crispness in the air and new life in the soil, and most importantly, brought a freshness to my mind and a renewed spirit within me. I truly believe that God is the source of all that is good, guiding me through every season of my life. It is His gentle hand that guides me, no matter the time of year. Like the earth awakening after winter, I too have awakened. And with each new bud and brighter morning, I am reminded that renewal is always possible.
The warmth of Summer sparked my motivation. Autumn's wisdom brought me clarity. Winter's stillness added depth. Spring brought me maturity. And the most wonderful truth is this: the seasons never truly come to an end. Even in Winter, Spring is quietly forming beneath the surface. Even in Summer, Autumn patiently awaits its turn. Some days now, I feel all four seasons at once, hopeful about new beginnings, passionate about my pursuits, reflective on what I’ve left behind, and quietly overcoming challenges that others may not see. If I’ve learned anything, it's that no season is ever wasted. The failures of summer turn into the wisdom of Autumn. The loneliness of Winter transforms into Spring’s gratitude. Every experience, every lesson, every turning point helps shape the man I am becoming.
I've learned to embrace the changing weather of my life with open arms. I welcome each shift because, deep down, I believe that beneath the frost, the falling leaves, and the blazing sun, something beautiful is always taking root. Now, when I reflect on my life, I no longer see separate seasons but rather unforgettable moments. The innocence of spring has truly filled me with courage. The New Normal can be contentious and rambunctious, but with the right attitude, it can be a place of new growth.
“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens, a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.” Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 NIV
