I am aware that Mr. Raging Fire stole my thunder, and honestly, it boils my insides, but certainly not selfishly. I reminisce on the good times when the people expressed their love as I made my entrance. How I gracefully entered into their lives wearing pomegranate reds, cinnamon browns, and squash yellows. The energy buzzed like a walk on the red carpet – a highly anticipated moment. My sweet fragrance beautified a stroll around the neighborhood. My cool touch refreshed, replacing summer’s harsh existence.

I worked with patience and diligence, brush and paint in hand to create my vibrant landscape. Lovely memories as vivid as the colors of my wardrobe…
memories of yesteryear before Mr. Raging Fire barged in, interrupting the balance of the nature of seasons.

Now, a sense of dread has crushed that sought-after anticipation of my arrival. And yet, defeat has not prevailed. This new reality only…