Elizabeth Drawdy 2019
One month birthed three souls:
My mama was born in August. She twirled through her youth in the Georgia heat, where even the sun sweats. The end of August, nearing September when the days are scorching, but the nights are growing cooler. The trees have almost lived out their summer lives, green and full. The last days of the season spent lazing in the yard surrounded by buzzing insects, reminiscing on the days spent at Grandma’s house staring out the window wishing the breeze would pick up and the mosquitos would go away.
The 26th of August.
My dear friend was born in August. She twisted and turned and grew despite the sweltering air that tried to suffocate her. The middle of August, when the time seems to stand still and the air hangs heavy all around. The dog days went on and on, flies buzzed around her head until they irritated her so much she left the heat to be somewhere cooler. August wasn’t so unbearably hot for her anymore, but the heat from the summer sun never left her and she came home to bake in it.
The 12th of August.
My love was born in August. He tore through his days with a restless vigor, while all other life seemed to exist in a haze. The beginning of August, in the middle of the summer when not even the animals bother to move. When the rivers and lakes are low and there’s no sign of rain, when the earth is parched; that’s when he came to life. A lion forged by the fire of his birth month. The heat never bothered him, he embraces the blazing sun that burns the rest of us.
The 7th of August.
One month gave life to those who give life to me