The warm air is fading from the wind the same as the memories from last year grow more distant, just like how the Earth moves away from the sun when winter comes around.
New York City is about to see another season and I am about to undergo another change.
I know.

The world is a cyclical place. We have four seasons. We have our bouts. We have our moments of joy and pain. We have days in the sun, moments when it rains, and times when it snows.
We have mornings when the ground thaws during the first warmth in spring.
I love the differences between these seasons. And I love them all for different reasons.