July

Peter was born on a sultry day in July. His mother, who had been told to expect a great deal of agony during the course of delivering her first child, was pleased when Peter made the transition from the comfortable shadows of her womb to the bittersweet light of the world outside with remarkable speed and ease. Peter remained the apple of his mother’s eye for all of the rest of her days.

Peter ran for the first time on a cloudy day in July. He had been walking for months but that was the first time that he the opportunity to really see what his chubby little legs could really do. Peter ran into his verdant backyard and kept running and laughing while his mother smiled and his father, the most impressive man Peter would ever know, looked up from his newspaper and his cigar and nodded appreciatively.

Peter had his first kiss on a sweetly magical night in July. He had pursued Rachel shyly for weeks never imagining that she knew he was even alive. Peter had always thought of Rachel as an angel incarnate and he hadn’t imagine that she would say yes when he finally screwed up the courage to ask her out to movies. But, much to his amazement and delight, say yes she did. When Rachel held hands with him as they walked home from the neighborhood theater Peter couldn’t imagine anything more wonderful…at least until they kissed, ever so shyly, with no witnesses save for the lazy golden moon in the sky and Rachel’s pesky little sister peeking through the curtains of her second story bedroom.

Peter got married on bright and breezy day in July. He and Sara had wanted to be married on their favorite cliff overlooking the bountiful Pacific and that is indeed where their friends and families gathered to witness their union. Sara was a vision in flowing white with a tiara of tiny flowers in her long black hair and Peter thought that there couldn’t be a luckier, happier man than him anywhere in the sweet blue world. Peter’s mother, smiled beatifically as the apple of her eye took a bride; Peter’s father, no less impressive for the years he had accumulated, nodded approvingly.

Peter’s daughter Kimberly Michelle was born on a rainy day in July. Kimberly Michelle had her mother’s eyes and his mother’s smile and, like he had done, she made her debut in the world with very little fuss. Kimberly Michelle staked out a large part of Peter’s heart from the instant that she placed in his arms and he couldn’t imagine helping to create anything more wondrous ever again. Kimberly Michelle would remain the apple of his eye for all the rest of his days.

Peter looked up at the golden moon for the last time on a soft but unremarkable night in July. His years had been long, his world had always been more happy than not, and he was not afraid of what was to come after. Sara was still the light of his life. Kimberly Michelle and her brother Christopher Jacob and their children still brought him boundless joy. Peter knew that he would be remembered when he was gone and that was good enough for him.

Peter died on a still morning in July. Sara found him in his favorite chair, his newspaper fallen to the floor, his cigar still burning in the ashtray on the end table. He had slipped from life with remarkable speed and grace, his mighty heart having beat its last while he was thinking about Sara. Peter was buried on a crystal clear day in July…his friends and families gathered together crying and laughing and hugging each other…and remembering. Peter was remembered and that was enough for everybody who loved him.