My friend Sarah Shotts, who blogs at A Love Letter to Adventure, inspired me to write this post Dear July. During the month of July, Sarah is video journaling in a series called Letters to July. I encourage you to check out her blog today. She is doing innovative, creative work not only with her July letters, but also in Project Stir (her global recipe project). Since I haven’t yet mastered the nuances of videoing (aren’t you glad? ha!), I decided to write a letter to July the old-fashioned way with pen to paper (then reproduced here, of course).
So, corny or not, here we go…
It seems as though I saw you only two or three months ago, yet here you are again. Somehow another entire year has passed. I have a confession. Did you know I love and hate you all at the same time? It’s true. I’ve thought about it for a long, long time.
July, you’ve always shown up bringing a bundle of my favorite things…family vacations, juicy watermelon, and a blue sky filled with lofty clouds. Even with all these wonderful gifts, the truth is that sometimes, most times, you are steamy and unbearable and I want you to disappear into a cool autumn breeze. But not this year, not so far, at least. This year I wouldn’t recognize you at all if not for the flicker of lightning bugs outside my kitchen window.
In case you’ve forgotten, today is my birthday. Today I turn fifty-three years old. That’s another reason I’m quite fond of you. Doesn’t everyone love their birthday month?
I’m not sure how I blinked and became fifty-three, but I did. And I’m not complaining. It’s a privilege, really, this aging thing. For whatever reason, many folks don’t get the luxury. Anyway, I thought you should know, I’m grateful for the memories so far—I hold them close and revisit them often like an old favorite book.
If you think about it, we have quite a history—fifty-three trips around the sun together is an impressive distance for someone who doesn’t like to travel all that much. Happy birthday to you and me and cheers to our next journey around the globe. Let’s try to enjoy more of the moments and remember they aren’t infinite. You order up the yellow sunshine (not too terribly hot, please), and I’ll bring the sunscreen.
And wine. There should be wine.
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
Todd Rundgren, Hello It’s Me