Last year, I wrote a little about the first day of autumn. Well, two days ago was again the first day of autumn.
Now, every time I think of this season, I’m reminded of the quote from Fitzgerald.
And just as last time, I’m reminded of how different each season is from year to year.
Last year’s autumn is noticeably different from this year’s. I’m sure that this year’s winter will follow suit.
I was also at a very different place last Autumn, despite remaining in the exact geographical location.
And yet, I wrote about conviction, not knowing what mine would look like at the time. I completely forgot about that. But it’s funny rereading it now that I have a conviction— perhaps one that will give meaning to every season.
Life starts over again when it gets crisp in the fall, and so does our need to give meaning to our actions.