Night Air

Walking out on the porch last night in the cool night air, I paused a moment. There's something about being outside at night when the temperatures hover between the heat of summer and the winter cold, a tiny taste of excitement floating on the breeze. For a moment I was taken back to summer camp, the crackling fire and stories of Indians canoeing through the Great Dismal Swamp.

I needed to get to the dollar store before they closed, but I waited, my eyes closed, inhaling, taking in the scent of the air, breathing in memories of family gatherings, the aroma of a cooling BBQ grill, the taste of cold beer, the sound of happy rednecks laughing and remembering the joy of chasing lightning bugs around my Aunt Gail's backyard.

Memories of late night rendezvous, sitting on the hood of a police car in an empty shopping mall parking lot, snuggling up to the crisply ironed surface of a dark uniform, his aftershave mixing with the fragrance of the night air.

Walking in sand, the sound of waves rolling gently into shore, beach side campfires, giggly preteens spying on boys as they walk past their campsites at night, feeling so grownup, little women who don't really know a thing.

Breathe deep.