Change Of Season Dates Review

She turned to a fresh page. At the top, she wrote: November 7th. First snow. Unofficial change of season.

Now, three weeks later, she stood in the kitchen making tea, watching the first real snow of autumn paste itself against the window. The weather app on her phone pinged: First frost advisory. Change of season: fall to winter. Official date: November 7. She almost laughed. As if the seasons needed an official date. As if November 7th meant anything to the maple outside that had been dropping red leaves since late September.

The calendar on Marta’s wall had three black X’s through October 14th. That was the day Sam left. She hadn’t moved the marker since. change of season dates

What I hope will grow: the courage to stop looking for the day it ended, and start looking for the day I begin again.

The notebook was still on the shelf. She hadn’t opened it. She turned to a fresh page

Marta stood up, walked to the shelf, and took down the notebook. She opened it to the last page they’d written on together—March 20th, the spring equinox. Sam’s handwriting: What I’m leaving behind: my fear of quiet mornings. What I hope will grow: patience. Hers: What I’m leaving behind: the need to be right. What I hope will grow: trust.

She paused. The snow kept falling.

But people liked their lines. Their before and after. Their summer ends August 31st and spring begins March 20th . Marta had been the same way. She and Sam had celebrated the equinoxes like holidays—candles lit, a bottle of wine, a shared notebook where they wrote down what they were leaving behind and what they hoped would grow.