Moon River

Some songs don’t just play in the background.

They hold you.

Like a friend who doesn’t ask questions, just sits beside you in silence, knowing that’s enough.

That’s what “Seasons” by Wave to Earth did to me.

It didn’t come crashing in with declarations. It didn’t try to fix anything. It just poured itself out like sunlight through a grey window; quiet, slow, and aching in the most delicate way.

From the first note, I felt like I was walking through myself.

The lyrics don’t explain everything, and that’s the beauty of it. It’s not trying to give you answers. It’s simply telling you, “Yes. I’ve been there too.”

To that moment when love lingers but doesn’t stay.

When the warmth you once held in your hands starts slipping through your fingers; softly, and then all at once.

When the days change, and you change with them, whether you wanted to or not.

“Seasons” is about that quiet in-between.

The space where love used to live.

Where memories become foggy at the edges, and names still live in your chest even though your lips don’t say them anymore.

It reminded me of a version of myself I no longer am.

Of people who felt like spring but left in winter.

Of how time moves forward, even when your heart doesn’t.

But Wave to Earth doesn’t write from bitterness. That’s what makes the song so hauntingly beautiful.

There’s no anger. No resistance. Just acceptance.

A gentle exhale: “This, too, was love. This, too, had its season.”

And maybe that’s the lesson I needed.

Not all endings have to be loud.

Some just fade like early morning light.

Some people aren’t meant to stay, not because they didn’t matter, but because the season changed, and so did we.

So I’ll carry this song with me, on slow walks, on rainy evenings, in quiet airports.

As a reminder that letting go doesn’t mean forgetting.

And endings don’t mean it wasn’t real.

It was, Real!

And like all seasons,

it passed.