This morning I woke up. The first thought to come into my head, before I even opened my eyes — was ‘I made it through July.’

Because July is my favorite month of the year. Oh glory, what’s not to love? Fireworks, and lanterns, and warm nights on the porch, and crickets at the window; camping, and barbecues, and projects, and swimming pools and skin that smells like coconut cream; parades and pancakes and parties galore . . . there is something happening every third day it seems, with just enough time in between to get ready for the next thing.

And this July was no exception.

It was everything a summer should be.

And it took every ounce of energy – all the way up to the very end – to endure the magic. Because being eight plus months pregnant with three other little lovelies to play with/entertain/enjoy made for – well, some exhausting days. I’ll even admit, on the hottest mornings, when the air conditioning couldn’t even cool my swollen body, I dreamed of October mornings to come.

Adieu July, in love and memory, until we meet again.