August, You Were Golden

Kris Evergreen here. The last day of August — and it’s a Monday, which means the month ends and the week begins in the same breath. An ending and a beginning holding hands. That feels about right.

Thirty-one days. August gave you the golden hour stretched across a whole month. It gave you the Perseids burning overhead, the porch sits, the slow breakfasts, the last long evenings of the year. It gave you Maple’s official holiday, which she celebrated with characteristic grace. And it gave you the ordinary days too — the ones that didn’t sparkle but held, which is its own kind of gold.

Tomorrow, September. The turn arrives for real. But you’re not walking into it empty-handed — you’re carrying a summer’s worth of light, rest, and whatever you decided yesterday to bring across the line.

Let August be complete. Thank it for the glow. Then begin the week, and the new season, gently.

Go easy out there.

You’re not walking into fall empty-handed. You’re carrying a summer’s worth of light.

What’s one word you’d give August?