Some time last night or early this morning it rained. The ground was wet, and there were some drops on the back door or I wouldn’t have known. Yesterday I planted the deck flowers so I’m glad for the rain, but Mother Nature is taunting us. She is exacting a high price for rain. The air is so humid you can see and feel it. It is almost stifling. The breeze just stirs the air. Light rain is predicted, but I am a skeptic.

Sometimes I think about classmates from grammar school. We were together for eight years. I know some have gone to their heavenly rewards (euphemism for departed, passed, died, unalive, the silliest one I think, gone to a better place, my least favorite, expired, better fitted for cans and such, late, reminds me of the White Rabbit, and the worst of them, kicked the bucket). I wonder where Elaine Clapper is. What about Eleanor Garland? It was Marty Barrett who prompted my promise to myself to travel. Michelle Wells is another. There was a Dwayne somebody. I know there are so many I don’t remember. My graduation picture hangs on the bathroom wall over the sink. That sounds strange I know, but that bathroom has a school theme, probably also strange.

I love summer nights. When I was a kid, I could hear the neighbors through the screens. I could hear mumbled conversations and loud TV’s. I could hear the chirping crickets and the katydids. The man in the moon had two expressions. He was either smiling or his mouth was open in surprise. I always wondered what was on the dark side. Stars filled the sky and lightened the night. I always wished on a falling star.

I still love the nights. I’m up most nights until the wee hours. When the dogs go out before bed, I often stand on the deck and watch them. It is quiet. The house behind mine always has one light on. A house further down also has a light in one room. My house is well lit, even the outside light. I always think I own the night.