August Already

I have calendars all over my house. There is one in the pantry, two in the kitchen, two in my daughter's room, one above my computer desk, a pocket-sized one for all my extra notes, and a forty-year one in my bedroom. They all say July.

I am usually vigilant in turning the pages and look forward to seeing the new artwork each month. My daughter and I like to put the magnets on hers, and she's beginning to understand what all the scheduling is about in her life.

But today I cannot bring myself to turn over any pages or place any tiles. It is a new month, which means the last month my grandmother was alive was last month. I don't want it to be August, I want it to be July. Specifically July 1st, the last day I saw her. The last time she sang along to music, ate at my house, relaxed in my backyard, celebrated my aunt's birthday. The last time she hugged and kissed me. The last time my children would ever see their great-grandma.

I am nauseated from my sadness and I don't want the calendar to keep moving forward. I just want her here.