Growing up in Maryland, I was lucky to experience all four seasons in their fullness. Each one had its own feel and its own set of memories. Summer was filled with soccer camps and sand castles at the beach. Fall meant the leaves changing color and afternoons spent playing in the woods. Winter brought snowmen, snowboarding, and the excitement of snow days. Spring is the least memorable for me, though I like to think it was a time when I was focused on finishing the school year strong. The year had a rhythm to it, and that rhythm became the backdrop for my childhood.
Seasons act like bookmarks in memory. I can picture moments more clearly because I remember them within the frame of the season. A hot afternoon at soccer camp feels different than a day running through crunchy leaves. Building a snowman has its own place in time, separate from digging my hands into wet sand at the beach. These shifts made it easier to recall not just what I did, but when and how I felt. The changes in weather, the different colors and smells, all worked together to separate one part of life from another.
Having lived in Miami for over six years now, I realize how much I miss that structure. Life here blends together. The palm trees are always green, the days are usually hot, and while the summers are brutally humid, the changes are far less pronounced. Without those clear shifts, it is harder to place events in memory. One year blends into the next in a way that feels less anchored. I sometimes wonder if I would be able to recall certain moments more vividly if they were tied to the look and feel of a particular season.
There is something grounding about seasons. They remind you that time is moving forward. They give shape to beginnings and endings. In their absence, I have had to look for new ways to mark time: through milestones, routines, and personal changes rather than the world outside my window. Yet when I think back on my life, I am grateful that my earlier years were lived against a backdrop of real change in the air, the trees, and the sky. It helped me understand that time has a texture, and that each part of life carries its own season, even if the weather stays the same.