When I was younger July seemed so simple. It was about Skin So Soft, Christian camp (which was more simple than it sounds) and my mom’s birthday. It was about mosquitoes and playing connect the dots with my bug bites-proof that children were truly creative before smart phones. It was about buying sparklers on July 3rd and seeing how fast you could spell your name on July 4th. My sister would win on a technicality. Kimberly was long, but she’d win every time spelling Kim. I couldn’t turn Robin into Rob though because then I’d be cheating.
July was about record heat waves, firecracker popsicles, pink eye and cheap Old Navy flip-flops. If I were to rank months, it’d be the simplest. The month that my calendar marked with a sun wearing sunglasses. It was a cool month. Cool as in awesome, of course.
This July I’m thinking about other things. How my Muslim friends will make it through a Ramadan that falls during the summer. How men are still deciding what is best for women. How the gay pride parade made me really happy. Freedom. And the lack thereof. How the New York City graduation rate was 61% and people were pleased.
And then I think about things that aren’t quite so heavy.
Like if/when vegetable smoothies, Kale and cupcake vending machines will stop being trendy. How good the macaroni and cheese is at Morton Williams. Whether Blue Ivy and North West will be friends in their twenties. I think about things that have nothing to do with the month of July. In adulthood, your months don’t seem to be themed. They just blur. There is no sun wearing sunglasses on my work calendar. Things are more complex.
This is what I thought about on my walk home from work. How things have changed. Then I got out of the shower and noticed five mosquito bites on the back of my leg. Sweet, sweet July.