Okay, Spring, I know you’re out there, but I don’t want any of this here-today-gone-tomorrow crap. I can’t tell you what it means to me that you finally showed up, but I’m warning you right now–if you pick up and leave for another 4-6 weeks, I swear you’ll never see that cute yellow skirt you like so much on me ever again. I’m not trying to be harsh, Spring, it’s just that you show up one day, unannounced and I get all excited and start boxing up my sweaters, and then I wake up and there’s snow all over the ground and you haven’t even left a note. You don’t see Summer doing that, do you? Summer comes and stays, just like it says it will. It even lingers sometimes. But you, you just toy with me, and I don’t need that right now, Spring. This heart is fragile, and you’ve broken it one too many times.
I’m sorry. Here you are, all fresh and shiny on my doorstep and look at me–I’m ranting and I haven’t even said hello. Forgive me. I rant because I care. I care so much, Spring. I’m sorry for saying that about the yellow skirt. I’ll bring it out, I swear. And the white blouse. We’re good together, and that’s why I want you here. You make me better, and I make you better. Just do your best for me, Spring, that’s all I ask. Just do your best. Now, come here and give your old girl a hug.
