The storms rolled through Sunday afternoon with thunder that shook the windows and vibrated the floor. The rain fell so heavily that the street turned into a pond. But shortly after, it was clear. The sky was blue, the trees glistened with raindrops, and the temperature had dropped.
Wind came through to push away the humidity over the evening and Monday morning, leading way to a summer day that I remember. One that I’m familiar with as this was the type of summer day of my childhood.
The windows were open as much as they could go and fresh air filtered through the hall and down the stairs. A fan ran on the third floor, because despite the cooler temperatures the third floor always seems to get the brunt of any heat. Even still, it was comfortable. Warm skin but not sweating as the breeze comforted and soothed.
The summer bugs sung happily though. They get really going whenever the sun is out and heating their little backs but it wasn’t so hot as to quiet the crickets as well. With the sun shifting behind the limbs of neighboring trees, our home was in the shade by the time the hottest part of the day arrived.
Unlike the start of summer where the playground and field is filled with children and teens chasing each other or playing basketball, the days are now quiet. Everyone has fallen into the slow decline of the summer season and are indoors, tired of the heat or preparing for the start of the school year. Those final vacations are being had and I’m left to enjoy only the sound of the bugs, planes that fly overhead, and a car speeding along the road.
Night comes slowly, with the sun gradually settling to slumber and the light leaking out of the sky a little at a time then all at once. The loud bugs that are propelled by the sun gradually drift off to silence, in their place steps the katydids and crickets. Once night fully descends, it’s as if the world sighs. It’s accomplished another day and gifted us with the cool night.
Early in the morning I woke and couldn’t fall back to sleep. I laid in bed with my blankets over me, warmed by them because finally it was a chilly night and the open windows cooled the house more completely than any air conditioning. The crickets were soft, tired after a night of hymns, and the low light of early dawn gave the room a blue glow. Much like the summer day beforehand that I remembered, I remembered this cool morning. It had the marks of school, the apprehension of tests, the desire not to move, but the craving for warm autumnal afternoons with the distaste of ‘if only I wasn’t in school.’ It’s an odd sensation not entirely comforting but there all the same, urging me to get out of bed, convincing me that no matter my plans I still had to get them done. Up and at ’em.
Erica Rose Eberhart 