July 11th


Dear July,
We are at my godparent’s house, where I spent so much of my childhood. This place smells like home. It isn’t one smell – nothing I can identify. It’s a mixture of things. A subtle, vague scent that sits in the background, like the wooden veneer in the lounge room or the bathroom tiles with green roses on them. All of these things have remained unchanged for as long as I can remember (which, in this case, really is as far back as my memory goes).
This is the first time I have come to visit with my boyfriend. We are staying in the grownup guest room, with the ensuite. I’ve never slept in this room before. Curled up beside him, warmed by the fire in the next room, I can smell the subtle background scent of him. He is the background of my life now.
Lying in the dark room – strange but familiar – I can smell the house and I can smell him. These are the backgrounds to two very different parts of my life. The beginning and the present. Both my godparents and my boyfriend have changed me in fundamental ways. They have shaped the person that I am. Having these two things together is comforting but oddly unnerving. I feel very grown up and very small all at once.

Alex x

Letters to July is inspired by Emily Diana Ruth. For more information, click here.

Further reading

December – home

I spent the first minutes of 2018 on the beach. I’ve never actually spent New Year