Fanciful

On the eve of the summer solstice

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Is there anything better than coming home too-late on a summer’s night because the friends were too fun and the conversations too rich and the night just-warm-enough?

And is there anything better than your skin being kind of dirty from a mix of the sweat of the day and the mosquito repellent you spritzed on as the sun began to set, light puffs of air/fluid/chemicals on your ankles and your friends’ forearms to extend the stories they were telling by truncating the pests of the night.

What if one friend brought out the grill but another friend brought chips and another friend brownies and so dinner was a mismatch of foods that would never win any awards, except the award of filling stomachs and making smiles and binding us all together in the way that only food can.

And if the air cooled slightly when the sun softly set, in bright, breathtaking shades and hues we had forgot even existed when we were holed in our winter caves, but the promise of tomorrow’s sun lingered in whispered promise in the humid air…then how can we be expected to leave at a responsible time?

Is there anything better than half-heartedly brushing teeth and falling into a cushioned bed after a night like that?

The next morning comes quickly, and you can look forward to a day that is groggy because the evenings last too late when the air is this full of promise and our people, those we haven’t seen since the last time the sun was this full, are treasured…and time spent with them is leisurely well-squandered.

(Welcome, summer, welcome. I’ve missed you.)

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