Dear August
somewhere between–I want & I got it
Dear August—
You made a poet out of me. I romanticized every day as if I were in a rom-com—where the guy not only gets the girl but everything he desires. But after every ‘first sip’, the cold brew grounded me in reality. My life was not like the movies, but I did start August on a boat.
I kept reaching for water, coffee, something cold that would keep me from evaporating. I thought about how desire and exhaustion can look the same in the mirror.
Some nights I thought about love. Other nights I thought about running. Most nights, I thought about both. All those years of running away were the conditioning I needed for the marathon ahead of me.
You swallowed me whole and lifted me to the clouds in the same breath. I soared between the still moments and held contradictions as if they were my mother tongue.
You reminded me that endings are not collapses but a hand-off in a relay. That even the hottest months are cool, and growth isn’t linear.
Until next August
—K