August Slipped Away Into A Moment In Time
Happy August, the month of sticky heat and evenings outside with friends into the early hours. When August makes it's annual return, I like to think of it as the Sunday night of the months of the year. For example, Saturday is the month of July. When Saturday mornings roll around, it tends to be a slow moving day and chores can be brushed off due to procrastination and become unimportant. Saturdays are meant to be spent in a daze and doing things with only half purpose. One might walk around the town or city, not sure where they're going but they don't have plans in the afternoon, so it doesn't matter how far one walks. Their friends will likely be free so after a simple text is sent, they're smiling to their friend 20 minutes later. Likely, in a park, somewhere. July is the month of pushing chores, wandering and having unplanned visits with friends.
August is the Sunday night, the night where one realizes that their clothes are still on the floor and not washed and folded. Yikes! Sunday night is when one feels overwhelmed because, how on Earth does anyone have time for anything? I mean, you had time, but somehow it felt like you didn't? Maybe it was all of the wandering? And while one is scrambling to pick up every dirty sock and pair of jeans, they're trying not to think about the fact that they should've been in bed 30 minutes before and how they're already cutting into their 8 hours of sleep a night. August is the month of shock over the to do list, scrambing to do your laundry and feeling flooded. Flooded from all of the things that are yet to do and the fact that so much time has passed but the to do list has doubled. It's been 8 months since New Year's resolutions were made but it's impossible to confidently cross off even 1 goal. It's been 213 days and is it fair to cross off one resolution? How has it been that much time?
An Ode to August
August used to be one of my favourite months of the year. There's many reasons for this, from it being the 8th month (my favourite numbers, 5+3), the heat and spending time at my grandma's cottage. Although these favourite traits have not faltered, they have faded. They have been replaced by feelings of getting older and missing the constant elements of life that comes with being home and younger. This feeling started around this time last year when I was coming to realize that most of my life was going to change drastically and stay that way for a while. How is someone supposed to deal with even the thought of that?
'Impending doom' was the feeling I was experiencing most days and all evenings of last August. It was that nauseating sickness that stirred up your gut and twisted your chest until that's all you felt, almost all of the time. Before writing this, I read my other post, 'My Life Is Only Ever-Changing,' for the first time in a while. I like to reflect on that one because it's the only personal one I've written. It was so personal that after publishing it I felt gross with myself for putting so much out there and then didn't read my texts for a little while. When reading it, the line "I was grieving something that had not happened yet," stuck out to me. If there was something that I could change about last summer would be my ability to be present. I was so stuck in my head and creating clouds of worry that I could not enjoy what I was experiencing every day. It's been a goal of mine ever since to change this.
I felt like I had been doing good with this New Years resolution, until the past week or so. When I came home from school at the end of April, I felt so out of whack and I struggled to create a routine. During the last month, I feel as though I have created a routine for myself in which I don't experience fogginess and I can relax and simply exist with friends and family and work and reading and the weather.
July schedule:
Monday: Work 11-close (usually 5:30) at job 1
Tuesday: Work 11-close (usually 5:30) at job 1
Wednesday: Work 7:30-as needed at job 2, work the odd 6-close (usually 10) at job 3
Thursday: Go to the cottage in the morning, stop early at the cafe for a drink
Friday: Spend the day at the cottage, drive home after sunset
Saturday: Work 12-close (usually 6) at job 1
Sunday: Work 8-close (usually 5:30) at job 2
*During evenings, see friends or have alone time
It wasn't until I had a realization that I felt so comfortable that the feeling of uneasiness arose in my chest and mind. Why do I have to let go of something I finally feel good about? AGAIN? This feeling was agreed with by friends when we began to chat about how the summer felt like it was slipping away. Don't think about it and it won't be a worry, I found myself repeating during a slow shift at work or evenings where friends were busy. I repeated this in the moments where everything was so still and I could only hear my thoughts. Don't think about it. Don't! You know it's going to happen, anyways. A laugh is scattered with friends, sitting outside during an evening after work and I'm enjoying myself too much again. This will be gone too soon and it'll be so diffe-stop. Shut up.
There is something so easy about a Saturday morning. In the last few moments before the lull of sleep pulls me away on a Friday night, I let it lead me away without setting an alarm. Saturday mornings are the best moment of the week when you realize that you have so much time. You have so much time before Monday and before life changes and the seriousness of life takes over you and you become what is needed of you. Saturday is for your alter ego, your true self. The Sunday night is for getting ready to become your serious self and to fill the mold. Monday is when your shining self is ready and peppy, the dread is disguised.
July is my alter ego, my true self. August is for getting ready to become your serious self and to fill the mold. September is when my shining self is ready and peppy, the dread is disguised.
Cemetery Conversations
I don't know if I can cross off my New Year's resolution. All I know is that there is less dread than this time last summer, and I will willingly work with that reality. The other night, I was walking with a friend through the cemetery in Elora. We headed to the downtown for a night of reading and wandering and a split cinnamon twist. Like clockwork, the change in the summer air carried us to discuss and pick apart our feelings about the up-comming school year. The conversation was a compare and contrast essay; how did you feel this time last year? How do you feel now?
"I know it'll be hard, but I don't feel the impending doom of last year."
We both nod our heads in agreement and make loose plans about visiting each other at homecoming and how we'll plan each corner of our new rooms. The rest of the night is so easy and loving that it was hard to remember such a serious conversation while writing this. We spend the evening walking around Elora, milling around and enjoying the heat that August can provide. For that, I thank you, August.
Dear August,
I hope you accept this horrible love letter. You are my childhood; late nights spent swimming at the cottage and the itchy sunburns at summer camp. You have become a distant friend, something to admire from afar. I've missed how we were before. We were so close and things were so smooth. You gave me so much and all I could give back was love.
Who knows, you could be different person this summer. It's only been 3 days but I think you have changed since last year. I'd like to meet the new you. I hope that we'll become closer again this month.
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