I sit and listen to the night all around me. Children and dogs peddle their wares, breaking the hum of cicadas and rattling air conditioners with the sound and call of pure innocence. It has been a while since the air has been cool enough to enjoy, and I only want to sit in it, to bask in the smell of earth carried on the breeze, to take time to notice the shades of blue that encompass a sky at dusk when there are no clouds to see. I’ve never taken time to notice the blue, turned pale yellow by the enduring sun even as it sits well below the horizon. The ring of faint blue/green fading away from the yellow only to succumb to crisp blue, inching toward navy by the moment. I am struck with awe.
A bird circles high enough to appear co-equal with a plan passing far overhead. He floats on a wind that is barely strong enough to move hair about my face. Maybe it is stronger up high where he soars. Maybe it doesn’t matter in the least.
I worry about the drought and the ensuing rise in food costs. I worry some over being home alone.. But mostly, I worry about nothing, and I realize that this is happy. I am happy.
A chuckle bubbles out of me as I turn these words over in my mind-I am happy.
And I never want it to end.
But happiness, like dusk, ends all the same.
I can only hope that it cycles around to find me again at peace
on my front porch
writing about being happy.