Aren't the seasons of our life a bit like the lingering days of a week?
The sun sets on a remembrance and we begin to breath faster at the thought of a finished moment. It hurts somewhat to accept the idea that something is coming to a close. Saying goodbye hurts much more than letting go of the moment itself.
And then it's dark.
And then it's quiet.
But day breaks and it's so very beautiful that you can hardly say the words to suit the colorful burst of possibility.
The streaks of love and the color of new.
And you are standing in a day of expiring moments.
Moments that are precious and full and many, before the sun sets again.
New is so good.
It's so very good.
It may be daily, but goodbye is the most beautiful preface to a welcome, new day.
