Anniversary (A Writing Prompt)

Inspired by a local group of scribes

365 days, 366 in a leap year.

An entire chapter of your life, segmented down to four seasons.

Winter starts the crawl, a single mitten in the snow. A sled across the car park sludge. A dinner with a stranger. The scraper on a frosty car windshield cracks the ice.

Spring appears, Ides of March, with still a misty morning chill; warmth envelops tarmac as the sun approaches noon. Evenings are shorter, but the light of day entices you to alleyways; a rubber ball is thrown against the brick.

Summer breaks, and blinds you through the curtains as you wake. The hessian sack scratches at your calves, but you hop regardless. An atmospheric heat rises from the A/C, melting the Maltesers in your pocket into one. The cows are sitting down, so raise your hood and turn the page.

Autumn falls from the dusty book upon the shelf. A dry, crisp orange breaks the yellow of before. Suddenly, a sofa seems like hearth to the weary. The eyes of a terrier — deep brown — like the bark outside. Sprinkle something in your coffee, if you must; the darkest questions pose themselves in tender times like these.

Back to winter, finally; a bookend, caked in snow. Or so our fondest memories will regard it, baked…