On Sunday, I’ll celebrate 5 months in Bogota and I realize only now that I’ve missed fall and most of winter in Canada. It’s a realization brought on by a friend’s question, “do you miss the seasons?”

Suddenly, I began thinking about how I lived by the seasons. I felt nostalgic for Sundays spent in bed watching Netflix while winter roared outside, nostalgic for cold noses and cold fingers making contact in bars during after-work drinks. I smiled as I told my friends about how the first few days of patio weather are like beacons calling us outside to drink cesaers and blonde beers. I thought about summers that induced a sense of wilderness and adventure and fall’s beloved sweater weather.

Each season has it’s different call to action and I realize that in a seasonless place, I have to call myself to action. It’s another exercise in choosing the person I want to be instead of letting circumstances make me who I am.

…Or maybe I’ll just wait until Bogota shows it’s second season again: rain, rain, rain.