The First August

This is the first August in five years that I’m not going to spend in Continental Europe

The first August I’m not packing my bags
The first August I’m not getting my camera ready
The first August I’m not excited to see everyone
The first August I’m not flying to the sun
The first August I’m not going to feel the warm air hit
The first August I’m not arriving in a new place
The first August I’m not reading by the pool
The first August I’m not discovering new cuisine
The first August I’m not drinking by the campfire
The first August I’m not having midnight barbecues
The first August I’m not begging for anyone to pose for pictures
The first August I’m not arguing over who does the washing up
The first August I’m not sending postcards
The first August I’m not sharing stories
The first August I’m not laughing until I can’t breathe
The first August I’m not coming back with new stories

The first August I’m not with him

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