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Dear July,

I began this year with your friend January, and January’s good friends Hope, Joy and Anticipation. Joy does not come around as frequently and Anticipation is even harder to track down but I am still familiar with Hope. Here is my question, one that I have asked you before, I believe, is Hope deluding me?

Half the year has sped by and with your arrival, comes the second half. Weighty and expectant, July, through no fault of your own, you make me question my promises to myself.

Have I become so wrapped up in hope that I did not notice when my pride took the wheel? Is the only reason for my commitment to my promises, my own desire to prove myself right, to validate my pride and call it faith?

I am not very good at letting things go, July. And I wonder now, to you, if it is a skill that I should perfect. Is that your lesson for me? Would that be your letter to me if you were able to write back?

As all these questions muddled my brain, you gave me a moment of clarity, July.

A celebration of love and family and childhood bonds took me back to who I used to be. A quiet voice whispers to me.

Perhaps the question is not what to let go of, but what to hold on to.

If I hold on to what and who I love, then July, I suppose I will have nothing to ever regret. I can allow you to pass me by and continue to run the race with perseverance. Anchored not by my pride, or promises, or even the hope, but by the love. Love of God, love of art, love of dear ones and, essentially, love of self.

Thank you.

Until next time,



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