August doesn't have time for federal holidays. It's such a jam-packed month, with the end of summer, the beginning of school, and always something going on.
Many important things in my life have occurred in August (or the beginning of September). Besides the start of the school year every year since I was 5, August has been perhaps one of the most significant months for me. I just realized it right now.
My brother was born Sept. 1, 1987, when I was 5. I started kindergarten then. I fell in love with my teacher, Mrs. Rafoth, and her classroom bunny.
When I was older, Mrs. Rafoth became my 4-H leader. I had rabbits of my own. August was the month of the county fair, which I went to every day, every year from age 12 to 15. The first three years were at the Washington County Fair in Oregon. I won blue ribbons and a couple Reserve Champion medallions. One year, our rabbits were quarantined for weeks after the fair (and my sister profiled on the local CBS-affiliate evening news) with a myxomatosis scare.
The year I was 14, we found out we'd be moving to Washington state within a month. I was about to start high school, and suddenly, my life was completely uncertain. I was deeply upset. We moved to Olympia just after I got my first chance to show at the Oregon State Fair.
While in high school, I made many friends, in person and on the 'net, and when I was 16, a group of us went to Bumbershoot in Seattle for the first time. I've been nearly every year since.
Last year, when I was 20, my dad died of prostate cancer. Today is the one-year anniversary of his death. We finally went up to the cemetary to inter the ashes today. My mom planned a little ceremony with flowers picked from the garden and poetry. Then we ate a lunch that I packed in great haste over by a fancy gravesite with a babbling brook fountain.
Christine sent me three pink roses that arrived in perfect timing, and for that, she is an angel.
Tonight is Bjork. It's going to be beautiful.