A month is such an artificial construct. We don’t even give all our months the same number of days.

And yet … and yet. When the calendar makes that grand move from one page to the next, I always feel the motion, in a powerful way that my rational mind cannot quite justify.

It might simply be the power of labels. As long as it was still July, there was time remaining to do all my July things. The ball was in motion, the game afoot, the football not yet touched down within the end zone, the final juggling pin still in the air, the last fragile leaf of the season bravely hanging on to the tenuous tree of time.

But now, alas, to misquote Corinthians 13:11, “When I was in July, I spoke of July, I understood July, I thought of July: but when it became August, I put away July things.”

So sad. So very sad.

On the other hand, now I have a whole new month to do stuff! 🙂