Sweet July (Spoken Word Release)

My Personal Independence Day

July has always been a special month to me. Not because of any blind patriotism or allegiance to the American flag, but because it represents the peak of my childhood. It was a time of complete freedom and connection to the most intrinsically joyful parts of myself. July marked the only stretch of the year I spent with my mother in Seattle. The rest of the time, I lived with my father three hours away in Portland.

By the time school let out, June was already halfway over. And by August, I’d be on a Greyhound bus with tears in my eyes, thinking of how much I’d miss her until the next visit. But July, sweet July, sacred July, was mine.

It was a declaration of my personal liberation. My own kind of Independence Day. Not one marked by fireworks and flags, but one free from the constant need to compensate for the absence of a feminine presence in my father’s home. There, I carried the weight of responsibility: babysitting, washing dishes, changing diapers, doing laundry, waking up my brothers and getting them dressed for school all while trying to be a student myself.

For my family, I needed to do. But in July, I got to be. Untouched by the weight of survival.

This morning in meditation I cried, bawled even, just thinking about the memories I have of those summers in Seattle with my mom. I thought about how deeply important those memories are to me because they connect me to the core of who I am. And how, once she’s gone, I’ll be the sole keeper of them. Without the external reminder, I fear I might begin to forget the landmarks of my evolution… and possibly forget myself. The purest parts of me that only she and I shared.

After years spent fighting to recover my innocence as an adult, I profoundly cherish the untainted lens through which I once viewed life. And as I write these words, it all plays like a film through my mind: fishing and fireworks, lake trips and barbecues seasoned with too much Lawry’s, long swims and sandwiches on white bread with a side of Lays, Animal Planet marathons and Dick’s Burgers, popsicles running down sticky fingers, cherry seed spitting contests, bus rides to Chinatown for dim sum, two-for-ten Old Navy flip flops, light shows at Gasworks Park, Sneaker City, Wild Waves, grandma’s house, watching my mom cook dinner before doing her makeup and heading to work, back-to-school shopping, and the roar of the Blue Angels overhead.

To write about these moments, to archive them through language and song, feels like the greatest gift I can give myself. Sweet July, for me, is a reclamation of my internal light at the time of year when the days are long and the nights are warm.

It’s a return to childhood play and a remembrance of the truest versions of ourselves. The ones that long to be loved, seen, and witnessed. Somewhere beneath the rubble, after all the wars I’ve fought to restore my lineage, I found her again. The younger me. The source of my strength.

And now, I’m doing everything in my power to protect her, to honor her, and to make her proud. This is my personal pledge of allegiance.

Sweet July is now available on all streaming platforms.

Journal Prompt:
What version of your younger self still lives within you?
How can you honor the parts of you that once felt most free, innocent, or alive?