The secret

Mid-August.

Chilly night air causing flowers and leaves to fall in heaps on wet ground warmed by the daytime sun until those heaps become rotting piles of detritus.

Sinking knowledge of vacations almost over and time once again chopped up, slotted up, rerouted and ordered by others.

Historical episodes of  betrayal, disinformation, misrepresentation and prevarication.

Mid-August is not my favorite time of the year and yet it has taught me one of life's best secrets:

I cannot change the past, nor often even the circumstances of the present.

I may have to wriggle around them, even pile new experiences on top of them.

Not letting others define my life for me.

Mid-August becomes the hypocenter for making the best of a situation and moving through it in spite of whatever else is going on.

It is making pretty purses from sow's ears.

Making an old dog's tricks endlessly fascinating.

Lifting someone up with a feather.

Mid-August has taught me to seize not just the day, but the moment.