There's a season for everything. I'm not talking about weather since that's the obvious type of season. I'm talking about the timeline seasons in a person's life.
Could be a particular school year in your childhood, a brief summer romance, or a friendship that eventually comes to an end. Like everything new, it starts off exciting and fresh. You're learning from the new experience and everything seems so vital and thought provoking. The fire burns hot. You want to feel the heat and bask in its comfort. But when the end arrives, either by your choice, or not, all those flames that have been burning steadily start to fade out. All that's left is a pile of black ashes.
We mourn what used to be. We long for the warmth that was once there. But the season is over. The fire is out. The type of ending effects your view of a season. And you wonder if your memories were an accurate portrayal of the experience. But memories are all that linger of a past season.