Fresh, young and new, I zip speedily around eagerly whirling icy air around Mr. Autumn. Coughing, in great wheezes that send tremors through his frail body, he lays a steady hand on my shoulder. His weary, wise eyes silence my antics and make my budding spirits solemn. It’s as if I can feel all of his energy draining into me. Fast rejuvenated, hopeful. His grip lightens as he whispers to me “my end is your beginning.” With those words clinging to me as if they were afraid to let go, he faded to nothing but a wisp of air.
Three months come and go freely and quickly. My eyes see life begin and end. I am fast to learn. Proud oak trees glitter with the crystals of nature as my hands brush lightly against them. Spider webs freeze at my command; the feeling of domination fills me. I am the ruler of winter. But then as quickly as my spirits rose they fall. A searing pain rips through me causing catastrophe throughout my kingdom. Slowly, my entire world melts away before me.
In the morning the trees dance and sway like drunken guests at a party, mocking my pain. Then as I turn a small eager face stares up at me. “Hello Mr. Winter, sir autumn has told me all about you. Is it really true that the pollution the humans are making is causing global warming? Does that mean you can catch globeitis ? It’s a disease where you feel like you’re on fire. Can you catch it, sir, can you really?” This sudden burst of chatter startles my resting mind.
“Yes, it’s true. I can catch it.” The deepness and wariness of my own voice scares me. Where was the one hopeful and excitable voice that grew from within me? Left in its place were broken, lonely eyes that longed for peace. Looking at the new season I place my hand on her shoulder. All around the snow was melting with resent and hate, banishing me from its life. Our eyes lock and before I leave I whisper a few words to her. “My end is your beginning.”