Today, I witnessed my first camellia bush of the new year. Whenever I see the camellia flower, its bloom reminds me that there is hope: hope of a bountiful and lush spring on the horizon. The winter cold, though alluring, is near its end and the rush of color is coming with the same sights and smells Nostalgia is made from. Ever since moving to a land where seasons are prevalent, I've been completely fascinated with tangible growth and change.
I wish I could tone down the way my mind romanticizes seasons. Would training oneself not to care be altering the person that makes them special and different? I know that apathy has definitely affected my own character and caused me to sometimes reflect someone I'm not. But I don't want to be ashamed of what I'm fascinated by. I am fascinated by growth, history, stories, minute details, movement.. (the list goes on). It would be a sin to un-fascinate myself with these things.