We need to talk. This letter has been a long time coming. I know I should probably be doing this in person, but it feels like every time I step outside to talk, you try to freeze me out.
We’ve had some some good times together, haven’t we? Remember those 47 days my kids got off of school? Making snowmen… sledding… you were totally there making it happen. Thank you. I will be forever grateful for the extra snow-day snuggles.
But here’s the thing: we need to be done now. You’re starting to make people sad. My friends really liked you at first, but they’re kind of just not the same when you’re around. I guess I’m not the same when you’re around, either. I can’t really pinpoint it, but there’s a grayness that covers the spot where joy should be. I know you don’t want that for me.
I’m not laying all the blame on you, really, I’m not. I’ve gotten lazy in our season together. I have to own my role and take responsibility. After much reflection and more mitten washing, I’ve come to a conclusion. There’s a season for everything, and our season together was magnificent, but now, I’m afraid it’s time for you to go.
The other day, when you were gone, the sun came out and it was really cool. Well, actually, it was really warm. And I liked it. The grass was greener, the birds were chirpier, and the whole earth seemed ready to wake up.
It’s time, my friend. You have to let go. I’ll be so excited to see you again next November. I’ll have a fresh stock of hot cocoa and all kinds of fun plans for us. But for now, I have to say goodbye.
Thanks for the memories,