I was sitting around the elementary school courtyard with a group of parents, drenched in sweat as we waited for our kids to finish their daily summer camp chant. When one mother exclaimed, "Can y'all believe it's already the beginning of July? Where has the year gone?" Though I wasn't part of the initial conversation, I nodded in agreement -- where has the year gone?

Everyone started talking about all the things they've accomplished since January, resolutions they'd actually followed through with: going to the gym regularly, starting hot yoga, eating healthy and dropping twenty pounds! Then one mother -- a woman notorious for power-walking through the town -- turned to me. "Sara, what have you done this year?"

My brain froze, but only for a second before I spouted off the first accomplishment I could think of: "I survived my first semester as a graduate student."

I'm met with a few chuckles and some congratulatory comments before our kiddos were released from camp and came rushing out of the doors of the elementary school like a broken water damn. The conversation about the year's accomplishments was quickly forgotten as my daughter rambled on about her morning adventures and we moved on with our day.

But later, as I sat at my desk and stared at a blank sheet of paper, that conversation returned to me. Where has the last seven months of 2017 gone, and what, exactly, have I accomplished in those seven months? I hadn't lied to the other parents when I said I'd successfully completed my first semester as a graduate student; I ran head-first into the graduate program with full course load, and when the semester ended I was proud of myself and proud of where I was in my education. But what else have I do in the first seven months of 2017?

I consulted my best friend and, of course, she called me out. "I haven't really accomplished anything in the last seven months," I told her with a sigh (though she couldn't see me sigh because I was texting her). I took a long swig of my now-cold coffee, staring at my paper and waiting for her response.

It came promptly and without fail. "Nah, man. You've started toward a new degree, celebrated one year at your job, threw an epic birthday party, started working with a literary magazine, got published, and did that YouTube thing!"

I laughed at my sister's straightforward approach at calling me out on my shit. As our conversation moved away from my accomplishments, I reread her text a few times. "celebrated one year at your job, threw an epic birthday party, started working with a literary magazine, got published, and did that YouTube thing." As my eyes continued to scan over the words she'd sent me, I realized something that has honestly changed the way I'm going to view the second half of the year -- and probably the way I view the years to come.

My accomplishments don't need to be grandiose in any way. They can be as simple as reading a novel in its entirety because it's something I love, as simple as starting and growing a YouTube channel that I've started dedicated to all things bookish. The definition of accomplishment is something that has been achieved successfully. Nowhere in the definition does it say it has to be something huge or something grand, so why have I always measured my accomplishments that way? It's damaging, and it's something that I want to change.

It's July, but I'm making a few goals for myself and my kiddos. Trying to limit the amount of T.V. we watch and increase the amount of books we read and the amount of time we spend outside. Throw another great birthday party for my son surrounded by family and friends, and just generally spend more time with the people I love. Implement new routines to help the kiddos acclimate to the new school schedule. Things like these aren't as grand or as impressive as losing twenty or thirty pounds, but they are things that are going to improve my life -- and the lives of the people around me -- and they're things that I know I can accomplish.