What’s your favorite month of the year? Why?

I don’t know the last time I answered this kind of question. Typically, the question is about which season is a person’s favorite. Each season has its merits, and depending on where you live there are reasons to hate a season. But narrowing down to a specific month?

I don’t want to dig in too deep and analyze each month, because there is just too much going on. Every month has its own holidays, and each month is nationally, or internationally, recognized as standing for something important to people and society.

So instead of analyzing and picking apart months to weigh out which one is my favorite from a level that everyone could identify with, I’m going a simpler route.

July would be my favorite. It’s the first one that comes to mind because I feel like I have the strongest positive memories tied to it. Simple as that.

In my mind, July is the height of Summer. The heat. Grilling and barbecuing. Pools and sprinklers. Traveling and vacations. The smell of hot asphalt after the rain as I walked down the street to the convenience store for a cold soda. Walking from there to the other end of the tiny strip mall to the little family-owned, counter service only burrito place. Late night car rides with siblings to get fast food. I really could just go on. I’m sure there’s a lot of those things that happened in June or August, but my mind always connects them to the month of July.