Dog Days of Summer

I love the summer time.

I especially love the month of August, no, not just because I am born in August, but because August has always been a quieter time of year. More folks on vacation, less traffic, a sense of calm and relaxation, despite the sad realization that summer is drawing to a close.

I am in the process of sorting, tossing and donating many of my possessions as my husband and I head south to Florida. It has been very emotional reading through years of my journals, sifting through family photographs, letters I wrote to my folks when I was in school in Europe and their letters to me.

Many emotions have surfaced as I move ahead, making choices about what to physically take with me. The past is always with me regardless of what I leave behind. Whether it be thirty years or ten years ago, memories remain along with the all the emotions that swirl around me.

I know many folks who are moving for one reason or another. I am in good company for I know that we all must make decisions about what matters most to us, what defines us and what must remain with us until the end; no matter where we roam.