Summer Lights

A veil of gathering darkness surrounds every step. Even though it’s just early July, it seems as if the summer has been here for months and, at this moment, it feels as if this summer has no end. The smell of freshly cut grass jams into my nostrils. The hot sticky summer air lays a thin line of perspiration all over my face, arms, legs and everywhere else where sweat pores reside. The dampness from my skin then magnetizes my clothes to the rest of my body. The sounds of tiny creatures all around, a summer night’s symphony, pound away in my ears like drums in the distance, seemingly amplified by the inevitable darkness. A soft, glassy moon shines high in the sky while the stars, set against a majestic purple backdrop, begin to leisurely twinkle.

I could be doing so many other things right now. I could be listening to the hum of an ice cream maker mixing together ingredients for a tasty treat. I could be eating a slice of cold lightly salted watermelon taking time to spit the seeds as far as I can just before watermelon juice dribbles down my chin. I could have stretched my body across the front porch swing until the swing’s swaying and creaking lull me into a state of near unconsciousness. I could have turned on AM radio and located a baseball game to listen to like I did in days gone by, letting the announcers paint into my imagination each pitch, each swing. I could be inside the house slowly letting the air conditioning crush the summer heat.

Instead, here I am. My fingers wrap around the oversized glass in my hand. My hand sweats from the stifling humidity. My steps are deliberate, methodical, measured. My bare feet tread lightly on the ground as I scoff at the thought of wearing shoes outdoors during the summer.

Just one more I tell myself. Just one more.

Moths dance around the dim front porch light throwing odd patterns of shadow against the side of the house. A shard of light streams through a window pane from inside the house and as I glance in that direction I find it difficult for my eyes to adjust to the varied range of lights as I also try to focus on my mission.

I know it is too late to be here. I know I should call it a night.

But, it’s summer. Summer. And I tell myself again, just one more.

Suddenly, my wish comes true. I thrust out my hand and after a couple of swipes my prey is taken into custody. I acknowledge my persistence and skill by muttering ‘I told you just one more’. Quickly, the lid comes off the glass jar in my hand and I push my capture inside with all the others I have collected on this night. Just as quickly, I return the lid to the jar being careful not to place the full weight of my hand on the jagged holes I have punched there with a pair of scissors while being just as careful not to let any of my bounty escape.

I stand back and raise the glass just above my line of sight into the space at the very end of my hand. In the darkness I admire all the tiny lights flickering on and off inside the jar. I feel my senses exploding. The smell of grass becomes mingled with the earthy perfume lightning bugs give off when they rest on your hand. The sounds of the night grow louder only to fade away without notice. The hot sticky summer air seems so strong I can almost feel it bearing down on me, yet I feel re-energized. Nature’s light, for a moment, seems muted by the glass jar in my hand and the tiny lights glistening inside. Then, a small smile comes across my face and I faintly see that smile in the reflection on the outside of the jar I hold in my hand.

I bring the jar closer to me. Suddenly, I open the jar, shaking it gently, encouraging each lightning bug to escape. As tiny wings flutter to flight, all the bugs flee to freedom from the jar except for one. I tap on the side of the jar then reach out my hand as if to nudge him to leave his temporary home. He hops onto my hand, crawls around there for a moment and then, all at once, flies away, turning his light on and off to match the rhythm of my very own heart. As I watch the bug take wing away from me, I feel my smile stretch even wider than before.

It’s summer. Summer. Just one more summer.