As befits a bathtub (and swimming pool, and ocean whenever I can) mermaid, I was born in August, in high summer.
My mother says she was on the beach nearly to the moment I was born. I’m not entirely certain that’s true, but I do know that the smells of sea, sand, and sunscreen mean “home” to me as much as Fuzzy’s shampoo, and the wiggly-waggly tails of my dogs.
As I write this, at a fraction of a moment before midnight, the outside temperature is hovering around 90 degrees and the only reason I’m not taking a midnight dip in my pool is that I have to be up at six to take Teddy to be neutered.
I’ve been on a sort of virtual vacation – staycation? – since coming home from Mexico in June.
But now it’s my month. My personal year is starting.
In the words of my favorite fictional president, words I use every year about this time: