Summer Nights

This is what I'm gonna remember come February when I haven't seen the sun for 93 straight days and the lawn is too wet to walk on, let alone lay down and dream upon:


I'll remember this ordinary, yet magical, night when the boys came home from swim lessons and launched their new foam rockets with the force of air and laughter and joy.


I'll remember how they burst over and through the ripe blackberries with the fuel of giggles and cheers, smelling of summer's magical mixture of pool chemicals and fresh tomato sauce. I'll remember how Summer serenaded us with birds in the woods and speedboats on The Sound.

I will remember the far-away laughs of neighborhood children and the nearby tackles and songs of my Monkeyboys launching their rocket ships to the heavens as they aimed for the nearest cloud.

And I'll remember how we all seemed to sense that nights like this were going to end soon as the days grow cooler, damper and darker and school and responsibility creep upon us. And I'll remember how, on this ordinary and yet magical night, we all wished that we could have this feeling forever.