August

August is that person that I am used to seeing every day.

She is comfortable.

She is familiar.

She is full of ordinary warmth.

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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.

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The seventh campfire, instead of the first or second.

But one day, something makes me pause.

Catches my eye.

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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.

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What do you love about August? 

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