A Warm Summer Night in Georgia

Do you remember hot summer nights as a kid? I remember the night sky. Full of stars. Constellations. Making new ones that no one else can see. Lying on the black trampoline top, still slightly warm from the Georgia sun. The only light a blue hue coming from the living room as my dad watches "The Wonder Years". Summer evenings in the south is when things come alive. Sure, you don't see rabbits and squirrels and birds. But you hear everything else that's missing during the day. The crickets, frogs, grasshoppers, and even the June bugs singing their songs trying to find their partner. How strange those creatures are. Trying to find companionship by yelling into the night. How strange I must seem to them. Away from my den. No protection from the predators that lurk. Away from the walls that shut out the noise. It's better out here. Life isn't experienced by being safe. You have to live, to live. A loud, grinding noise quiets the sound of life as the large satellite behind me repositions itself. The Wonder Years are over. My dad hollers for me from a place I can't see. It's time to move on. Into that cool hovel where I will close my eyes.