Like Lilacs in August

She arrived in my consciousness subtly – piece by piece, memory by memory, she slid into being as I grew to adulthood. Of course she always existed, but I discovered her piecemeal and found myself dizzily surprised every time I stumbled upon a new facet of her life, her dreams, her ambitions, her personality, her insecurities. When I was a child she was lilacs in spring: expected, predictable. When I was an adult she was lilacs in August – an impossibility made all the more miraculous by the recognition that she was somehow defying time and fate.