Imperfect

If I were to describe my life in seasons, I would name two. First, there was the summer, boiling hot and too bright, burning my skin and soul. It was when I was fifteen and I met a boy who seemed to be my dream come true. In just a second, the misguiding first impression started beacoming blurred to finally vanish into thin air, letting the truth sink in. The romantic notion of love I used to bear in me was destroyed by this handsome and charming guy, who altered my life forever. Many years later came the snowy and frosty winter, bringing shelter and comfort for my overheated body, giving me a second chance in my life. It was when I met my husband, my soul mate and my comrade in arms in one. Our imperfect relationship saved us, giving some kind of meaning to the suffering we had to endure throughout our lives.