I can smell the summer, taste the monsoons and see the winters in people’s eyes. They keep passing like climate; sometimes warm, sometimes cold and pouring. I don’t remember a weather report that’s accurate, just like people. They come and go for reasons unknown (at least to me). She waved at me the first time when she was drunk and I, high on caffeine. She hugged me one night, said it’s freezing out there and I feel like family. Those were monsoons and it rained hormones and love. I walked away during winter with a frost bite and an aching heart. Today I hold on to summer for its warmth and persistence; a season for self love and resilience. Now, I have become the seasons.