The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot.
Natalie Babbitt, Tuck Everlasting
That’s how I feel right now, like this whole year has been a climb to this spot, this place where I am poised, ready and waiting for something new. My heart has healed. The view is exhilarating.
Bring it on.