August is that person that I am used to seeing every day.
She is comfortable.
She is familiar.
She is full of ordinary warmth.
In August, summer has settled into itself, and everything feels ganglier and softer and dustier. Mature.
The textures and the layers criss-cross and overlap.
The seventh campfire, instead of the first or second.
But one day, something makes me pause.
Catches my eye.
And when I take a second look, I realize that maybe I don’t know her as well as I thought I did.
There is overlooked beauty all around.
And I realize that as much as I love September…
August may stick around for as long as she wants to.
What do you love about August?