Betwixt
and between. Neither here nor there. August.
For
many years I have observed, let’s just call it, the ‘Faugust’ phenomenon. Winter starts towards May, gets a bit more
serious in June and July (although this year I’m not even sure about that) and
then suddenly one morning I realise that everything is slightly off kilter. It
creeps up on me, the feelings of dread, the existential fear that this may be
all there ever will be. Stuck. Forever. And when I check the date, it’s
invariably August.
The
realisation comes with the awareness that a lot of people around me are also
struggling, some irritable, some feeling constantly bleh, some having mid-life crises prematurely. My friend
Megan, in her blog on August (her delightful posts can be found at misfitsofadventure.blogspot.com)
refers to the pervading restlessness and edginess. A kind of limbo. (I wonder if people in the Northern hemisphere
experience this feeling in April).
And then
towards the end of August and without a discernible change in the weather forecasts
(or advertisements as I like to call them), I get outside one morning and there
it is … The fresh smell of slightly wet soil promising new beginnings.
So fellow August travellers, my advice is this. Hang in there, keep calm, do not
make life changing decisions, and just get through the fog of August. Nearly there.
September.
