When I was a kid, my favorite season was autumn, hands down.
I mean, it wasn’t even a contest. Autumn contained the start of school, which I ached for, particularly after my grandparents passed away and my summers contained NO structure or even much supervision. I liked the colors in nature. I like Halloween and Thanksgiving, two holidays that I didn’t put analysis on as a kid, but now as an adult, I realized I liked because they weren’t specifically religious and they were about community and not necessarily consumerism. It meant I got to take a trip to a place I loved going as a kid that was only open for 4 weeks in October and 4 weeks in April every year. Autumn was my favorite season until my boy started school.
Now, my favorite season is summer…or maybe winter. Now I like it when J and The Boy are home with me. Those are my favorite times. And I get more time with them home with me during summer and winter school breaks. J saves his vacation time (mostly) for those times of year. I met J in winter. The Boy was born in winter. Summer is full of trips and togetherness.
And who doesn’t love spring rebirth and growth and beauty?
The truth is, I’m not very good at choosing ‘favorite’ anythings. I see good and bad in almost everything (mostly good…I know…it’s annoying…I’m one of Those People), and I’m indecisive and feel guilty about exclusion, even when it’s a list of songs or books or seasons that don’t have feelings.