I'm sitting out on my porch late, hope to catch a glimpse of some shooting stars as the Perseid meteor shower passes through the northeast sky. I'm contemplating taking my Mac down to the school a block away and watching from the large field to give myself an unobstructed-by-trees view. Previous to now, the day was solid, though mostly uneventful. I took the boys and two of their friends to the JCC pool for a few hours, and I got some work done and also swam. Lori made street tacos for dinner, and I walked with the boys to get a Sno-Cone afterward.
The crickets are chirping tonight, and the weekend is just two days away. As I write these summer posts, I keep thinking back to being the boys' age during summer evenings, just like tonight when we walked to the Snow Shack. Parts are different. Much of what I remember is how the air in Chicago felt in the evening -- humid, dusty, a little bit orange -- a feeling that I just don't get here in Salt Lake. Part of the experience then was going to so many of my dad's softball games and coming home feeling that Chicago was all over my skin and in my lungs. But these past few nights, with the walks to get a treat, have captured a little bit of the experience of 35 years ago. And I hope in a couple decades, the smell of sunscreen and chlorine will take the boys back to today.
I'm going to make some wishes on the shooting stars here soon. And for at least a few, I'm will be thankful instead of wishing.