Summer Nights

Summer nights were magical. The taste of fire in the air. The sound of crickets late into the night. We would lay in the field, grass, or on the trampoline and watch for shooting stars. Trying to pick out constellations, we would always fall back on the Big and Little Dippers, thinking about the Underground Railroad and how exciting it would have been to be runaway slaves.

I remember leaning out the second story windows of our white farmhouse--looking out and around while our knees anchored us onto our beds that we were sure would keep us safe from falling to our deaths (dramatic as that would have been). Sometimes, we would sneak out one of my windows and onto the porch roof with hearts pounding as we thought of what would happen if we got caught. We were, of course, presumed to be sleeping during these midnight adventures.

We whispered to each other while leaning out our windows, my older sister and I. It was glorious, somehow, to be young and have the most rebellious thing you do be to lean as far as you can out your window and turn on and off a flashlight in an attempt to attract fireflies. I would watch the moon for hours back then, always keeping my bed located near that window so I could think about who else was looking at the same sky and same moon and same stars that I was right at that exact moment.

Hide And Go Seek in the dark. Sardines as the pitch black night enrobed us like a big cozy blanket. Racing barefoot through seemingly miles of untouched grass. It was everything childhood should be.

And here I am today, still enchanted by fireflies, dancing flames against a pitch black sky, and listening to an orchestra of peepers...because everything in life looks better when viewed under the moonlight.