Non fiction

The change of seasons

“Cheers!”, “Cheers!”, “Cheers to all the United Nations!!!”. The United Nations is a Facebook group they founded a few months ago to coordinate all of their activities. And just like in Sheffield itself, the Germans were over-represented, but there were also people from Spain, France and Belgium, a Swedish girl, two Irish girls and an American guy. He could hear the sound of the clinking glasses in his head—a nice and familiar sound, that was closing an old chapter, but opening a new one at the same time. They were talking about where they had been travelling to, which trip they liked most, which club was the best night, which lecturer was the funniest. Nobody ran out of things to talk about and the night could have gone on for eternity, but everybody knew that they could not delay the farewell forever. Even though nobody spoke about it, there was heaviness in the air. It felt like the change of seasons: When Winter forces the trees to let go of their beautifully, autumn-coloured leaves, nobody knows whether it is going to be harsh and ruthless or mild and gentle. Even though people are still clinging to their autumn-walks for as long as possible, when it is already too cold outside and the landscape has been deprived of its colourfulness, they secretly know that the snow is not far ahead any more. It is this time of the year where you can hear people saying: “I'm really gonna miss Autumn, it is the best season of the year! Everything looks so nice, just look at all the beautiful colours!”, “Yes, indeed. I'm not looking forward to the wintery coldness and wetness.” But these are the same people you will see a few weeks later, sledding with their children, drinking hot coco; really enjoying Winter instead of mourning Autumn. At the beginning it may have taken them a while to adapt to the new circumstances, but they have embraced it in their lives completely.

He cannot even imagine that it will be like this in a few weeks. All the memories are still so vivid in his mind, but in fact, the farewell party was 2 months ago. Everyone has left. Everything has changed. Winter has arrived. But who knows—maybe he will enjoy this time of the year just as much as Autumn. Maybe he just has to give it a shot and when Spring approaches, bringing back colour to the world, he would rather choose Winter.

Reflection

I just started by writing down some of the experiences I had last year. Then the ‘season metaphor’ came to my mind and from then on, I went on writing without relating it to my experiences. On the one hand, the metaphor represents how fast moving our world is. Although you think you are really going to miss something or someone, you will get over it eventually, even if you just screwed up an exam or if you have lost someone you cared for. Sometimes you are just scared of letting go of something, because you do not know what comes next. I think you should always try to adapt to or try to embrace new situations in your life, regardless of whether it was your choice to change something or whether someone or something else has changed and it affects you.

On the other hand, it also shows how superficial people can be: although you say you like something – and maybe you really believe that – you have forgotten about it by the time something new comes around.

I found it quite hard to write the story, since I am more the scientific, rational kind of person. We talked about why people feel more insecure when their piece of creative writing (in contrast to academic writing) is scrutinised. In my opinion, this is because creative writing is more personal. It does not necessarily have to be based on some of your real-life experiences, but the way you write, the words you use and so on always reveal more about you than an academic essay does. Also, the thought that someone might find something in your writing that you did not intend to say is intimidating. Nevertheless, I enjoyed writing the story after a while. It was exciting to develop this metaphor without knowing where it will take me and what it will look like in the end.

Sonja Schneiderbanger