When I lived in Austin, I moved several times. Always in July or August. Hot and muggy and horrible for hauling heavy stuff from house to truck to house again. When I left there I settled into a house. I’ve been here 14 years now. Yet every August, I feel as if I should pack up and move. It’s the time of year to do the heat stroke boogie.

Please use the open space below to share your first 50 words on the topic “august.”


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

7 thoughts on “August”

  1. She came to us this month, five years ago. The name we have given her marks our beginning as scared parents with this little ball of emotions and cuteness. August is everything and nothing like we imagined before we gave up trying. She was our summer gift. Now she’s family.

  2. Last August was all anticipation. Seeing each other, the first time in an age.  I let myself ponder. What would we say, feel, do? 

    We said, felt, did so much.

    Another August planned, now empty. You, no longer there. Your unexplained disappearance, an earthquake in my mind. 
    August is sadnes

  3. End of August is my sister’s birthday. I used to send cards and sometimes, when I could afford the postal fees, a gift. Now, strife has separated us and, at best, we exchange a facebook-generated birthday greeting on our birthdays. So sad! Sometimes I wonder how she feels about it.

  4. In the years gone by August was a quiet month, a month of to plan vacation and rest. I could always count on August. Not so, this August in the midst of my retirement the doors swung open before me. Without hesitation I crossed over to began the career adventure of my life marveling how life is so unpredictable.

  5. August is , was , always
    hot , humid , rain filled
    difficult yet promising
    month .
    It brought rains to
    parched earth
    promise of crops
    food all year round
    It also is the month
    of Independence day
    Freedom to
    and hope

  6. August 12th was my Aunt’s birthday. We had a love-hate relationship. She was the eldest of three sisters who all lived in the same apartment building after they married so you can imagine the many highs and lows. My Aunt always complained about being forced to quit school and get a job during the Great Depression. She married late in life and never had children. I loved her sense of humor and hated how she could turn a family event into a disaster due to her lack of discretion. Middle of August in New York was like hell on earth without air conditioning. Brutally hot and humid. We always made sure to drive back to the City from upstate New York for her birthday with her favorite ice cream cake and gifts. Let me emphasize that it was truly a labor of love due to the weather combined with the possibility she would be in one of her nasty moods. Every 12th of August I send up a Happy B’day to her hoping she’s behaving “up there;” but awfully delighted I don’t have to visit any longer.

  7. Heat simmers and tempers boil,
    too hot to be reasonable
    to take time
    to think.

    Drinks sweat as brows bead,
    too humid to be outdoors
    to take walks
    to write.

    This month, this August
    too much summer,
    too much green
    to love.

An open space for your story

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s