August

August.
It can mean Grand and such when pronounced as 'A Gust of Wind'.
The more common meaning is that of the month we're in. The month of Leo and Sagittarius, Fire signs, if you follow the stars and hope they'll tell you who you are.

The 'most awesome' or 'best' month, at least in my book, at least up until less than a few years ago.
As one of the worlds' August Babies, a motley crew of old, young and new souls that were conceived in our parents attempts to stay warm in the winter-est last month of the year. (Maybe.)
I used to laud the approach of the 8th month.
With it came cake, the possibility of gifts, promises of 'Birthday licks'. Of course there is the oft overlooked 'Getting Older', which was never in tandem with 'Getting Wiser'.

As I sit, past work hours, pecking away at an office computer - waiting in semi-vain hope for a free ride of some appreciable sort, I reminisce on Birthdays Past.

There was the McDonalds, face painting extravaganza, complete with Ronald McDonald; lest I forget the various forays to the land of Chuck E'Cheese's.
As time passed, a cake and cards were the most to be expected. Of course the kind optometrist never forgot. Neither did the dentist, come to think of it. Sure, those cards were basically postcards with my name and address affixed. The more the merrier I thought, until the inevitable chucking time...

The most memorable of my semi-adult life was my 18th birthday. It nipped at the heels of an Graduation Open House and like a serendipitous chance encounter with a near& dear old friend, it would not have happened the way it did at any other time.

Since then, the inescapable 'coming nearer' of a birthday no longer holds promises of what joys may come. Rather, they mark in Bold Helvitica font, size 152 'how far I Have Not gone. Highlighting the mistakes that brought me to where I am and taunting me, singsonging
'Shoulda,Coulda,Woulda'.

My most recent birthday went virtually unmarked, thank God for technology. People get those nifty Facebook alerts and take the trouble to 'Happy Birthday Girl' you like they remembered. I can't judge, I do it too. I just don't pretend I have a photographic memory or feel like I'm getting away with something slick.

The one before that, or a couple before, (these days they have gotten so bland that its a wonder I even remember) started brilliantly and ended in such a heaping pile of rubbish that I vehemently vowed to change somethings in order to avoid any repetition. Though, I stopped short of the usual dramatic airs.
No need to grab a fist full of dust and declare to the sky at dusk that '..I'll never go hungry Again!' If Scarlet O'Hara had considered her quote worthy( to some) phrase, she would have realized that God witnessed all she did, whether she said it in cool night winds or not. But I digress.*

-Do I even Need to mention that not only have I Not made those Earth Shaking Changes, I have also settled down into the aforementioned deep mound of smelly nonsense? I didn't think so.

Now, I understand why a woman wouldn't want to state her age. I already look Younger than I am, perhaps the firmness of my skin matches my accomplishment- lessness? What would a 60 year old who looked 55 say? That they were 50?
What about if she looked 45?
Hmm kay....So she's 60, looks 45, has climbed to the moon and back - she wouldn't drum her age in youngsters ears as she throws her head back to laugh at their astonished faces? Of course she would. And no one would blame her.

Now, if Miss 60-and-looks-45 was a hands in the mud, no account, lay about, legacy-less, friendless, lonely, loner...You think she'd tell whoever she could find to care what her real age was?
Psshaaawww!

Alas, perhaps it is the U curve of my Melancholy kicking in.
But I'm really not looking forward to this birthday at all.


* If you didn't know, I referenced Gone With the Wind.
If you Still Don't Know......rent it or something.
Tis a bloody classic.