I Wish I Had



Melvin, my 14-year-old, almost deaf, vision-impaired corgi found his prance again after losing it for a few weeks. His frolic up the driveway last night was almost youthful.

The fireflies at dusk reminded me of summer evenings as a girl, running barefoot in the cool grass after supper, catching lightening bugs in one of Mama’s mason jars, air-holes hammered into the lid with a nail.

At five minutes after nine, just before it was completely dark outside, the chuck-will’s-widow began his clear, bright call in the night woods. His song was soon replaced by that of the cicadas, common around here by mid-summer. If heat and humidity have a sound, I think this is it. It’s just one of those familiar night-time sounds of the dog-days of summer.

A brilliant crescent moon was setting in the southwestern sky. By the time I looked for it, it had already fallen below the tree line. I searched for a better view, even ran upstairs to the sleeping loft, but still its complete beauty was obscured by the trees. I almost got in the truck to drive out to the road for a better look. I wish I had.

Wishing you well.
~Pat

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