It’s spring now. The tulip tree is blooming in our yard the same way it always does. It blooms first but loses it blossoms first as well. It symbolizes the beginning of everything new. It also, I suppose, shows how fast that all goes away. That’s the thing about beginnings, they always have endings. But endings always have beginnings as well, so I guess I shouldn’t complain.
The other night I finished The Great Gatsby again and it reminded me of the first time I read it last summer at the beach when I never wanted summer to end. Last time I was on a balcony in the darkness with the sea crashing in the distance; this time I was in the fading sunset by a playground while I read. It was the same playground I went to when I was in first grade. When I sat staring at the empty place, remembering a young me swinging there nine years before for the first, it made me sentimental. The book reminded me of an ending, the playground reminded me of a once-beginning. My personal favorite quote from Gatsby is the simple “So we beat on” from the last paragraph. It sums it all up: The American Dream, life, time. It just keeps on going and we keep on searching. We keep on beating, with the waves of time that will never cease to beat in and out on the shore of this life. There are beginnings and endings and that’s just the way it is. All I seem to write about is beginnings and endings, but that’s the way it is.
It’s beginning now and that’s the way it is.