August is the Sunday of the months. I wish I could say I came up with that quote, but I didn’t. A fellow commuter made the observation as we waited for the train last week. And he was correct. August is like a long, summer Sunday afternoon. One can enjoy the fine weather and time off, but there is an underlying foreboding or anxiety that it is all coming to an end. Just like spending a Sunday slightly stressed about impending Monday.
August weather is certainly beautiful, but there is no escaping the feeling a good time is coming to a seasonal end. It begins with the subtle realization the days are again getting shorter. It follows with the slight change in the weather. I go out to see the Persied meteor shower and there’s a good chance the evening will be cloudy-unlike in July. The morning and evening breezes begin to get cooler. I need a sweatshirt over my t-shirt and shorts. And right on schedule, my tomatoes are starting to ripen.
If ever there was a time to live in the moment and make summer last, it is August.
To continue this metaphor, I wonder if I will be writing about September as the Monday of months? I will have to get there and see.
Presently, it is enough for me to stay in the moment.
copyright 2019 Christopher Donahue