My favorite part of summer is this week. The Perseids paint the sky in streaks of white, the nights are slightly colder and autumn begins peeking around the corner flashing us glimpses of russet and pumpkin, ochre and smoky blue. Fall is always my favorite season by far, you wouldn't think it, but I always loved it when the tourists and vacationers went home and I had the beach all to myself again.
At night I can turn off all of the exterior lights on the property and lay down blankets on the grass or on the sand, though the grass on the lawn is closer to the sky and so that's what I usually choose. I put on a sweater and grab another blanket to cover my legs and inveriably someone (usually Lochlan or sometimes John) will bring me out a cup of blueberry tea. Boys come and go, kids come and go, not interested in the long wait for such a brief, stunning reward, but I'll spend hours shivering out on the lawn wishing on stars, worried that if I miss even one my luck could get worse.
Lochlan calls it quaint and thinks it's sweet, a throwback to our early years, soaked in more nostalgia than I can actually handle. Ben says it's too long and will only stay out for ten minutes, tops, once a year. Caleb calls it an unhealthy compulsion and won't come out at all.
But I'll be there. Tuesday night at ten pm. And I'll stay there far into Wednesday, too because it's not just a one and done. The stars give me more perspective than any words could ever and I need them like you need air.