I don't like August.
I think I got it from my mother.
For her, August meant back to school.
For me, it's just...hot.
And I am ready to move on to fall.
I don't want to feel this way.
I want to like the last lazy days of summer.
I really try.
And I hoped this year would be different.
I'm ready for fall.
And orange and red and yellow.
And thick socks.
And soups and stews.
And the maple glazed donuts at the pumpkin patch.
I am even ready for it to be dark by 6.
And by the middle of January, I will be cursing myself for wishing away this heat.
But I can't help it.
I'm wishing away this heat.