Spring will come. I have proof because my sister and I saw two daffodils yesterday and one today.
And then there was the field of rosehips we walked beside this morning. There they were swollen, hanging onto the bare branches of last year's roses.
Someone may gather them for tea, or medicine. But mostly they will eventually fall to the earth and become the roses of another generation.
Life goes on, I am learning. It doesn't go on reluctantly, or hesitantly. That is my interpretation. Life just goes on. Whether I am willing to go along with it is my own decision. How I am willing to go along with it is my choice.
Sometimes I can allow the rhythm of the seasons to pull me along. Sometimes I can ride the wave, sometimes I notice the changes have occurred while I was otherwise engaged.
But the seasons change regardless.
They don't need my permission.
But I need their constancy.
Hope is found in the changing seasons, promising me that life goes on.