Dear July

1

06.07.20 

Dear July, 

It's been a while since I've written those words. I tried to write to you two years ago, but couldn't. It was a gloomy day then. It was gloomy today as well. 

I've been reading some of my old letters to you again, and they feel like they were written in a different century. I am a different person now, that girl who wrote to you with hope and trepidation, uncertainty and longing for change has grown up a little. I am tired now. The world has worn me down a little. I've gone through the spin cycle in the washing machine a few times and now I just want to lie in the sun for a while. 

Four years ago, my life was about to change. The end of high school, the start of a new adventure. I was glad to be rid of school, a thoroughly terrible culmination of thirteen years in a system that cared only for bell curves and standard deviations. Things are about to change again. I can already feel the ground shifting beneath me, carrying me on to new - and hopefully brighter - things. 

What a wonderful four years they've been though. Years with new friends, who have held my hand through the darkest of nights. Years with new ideas, that have challenged me and stretched me and remoulded me. Years with new adventures. With roadtrips on curving roads and wild sunshine, to distant towns and to nearby scenes, willing to share their secrets if you will only stop and be still. 

These four years have seemed like a lifetime, and yet they have roared past me like a river headed for a waterfall. And no matter how hard I fight against the current, how tightly I cling to the rocks in my way, I can't stop that precepice from rushing up to meet me and hurtle me into my future. I am afraid, but I am learning to live through my fear and not out of my fear. 

Until another day, 

E.