You are always the month of exhaustion and optimism. I spent many stuffy school days waiting for release so I could go and play in your warmth. Now I'm an adult, and school has closed it's doors, but you are still filled with the hopes of summer holidays, of barbecues, of languishing in parks and on beaches with best friends and family, and of good books waiting to have their pages turned under your sun.
The exhaustion is still there too. This year, I am filled with the exhaustion of moving. Boxes upon boxes of possessions requiring homes. Drawers filled to bursting with 21 years worth of memories to sort and discard. I am filled with the exhaustion of my impending future. The great unknown that raises me onto my tip toes in the hope of viewing it more clearly. I want so badly to rock back onto my heels, to feel the solidity of earth beneath my feet, yet I totter up here.
July, you are also the month of Le Tour de France. Every year it captures me and sweeps me along in its epic 3 week long madness. This year will be no different, and already as I write this letter to you the men in lyrca are racing on the television screen behind me.
You are going to be different this year though, July. You will forever be the summer I graduated from University. You will hold a special place in my heart, and you will stand out from summers past and future.
July, you smell of hot tiles, beaches, and flame cooked food. And I can't wait to spend the month with you.
Yours, as always