13 June 2009

sparklers.

we sit on the back porch where i have spent a hundred hours, maybe more. the box of wooden matches has spilled out all over the deck...we shuffle them around with our bare feet, talking over the events of the day, the week, a whole life.

a normal week night is anything but normal.

strike on box. we start to play with fire. the smell of matches fills the porch. everyone is tired from the demands of life, but it feels like spring outside on this june night, and we see that it should not be spent on tv or early sleep.

our friend runs down to the car and comes back triumphant, holding up a slim box with a gleeful smile: sparklers. we attempt to light them simultaneously so that all can sparkle at once, but chaos. everything becomes much more raucous for the next minute or two. summer exuberance. pyrotechnics in the smallest scale possible. just enough--my favorite kind. and laughter. the noises of this night are the kind you'd like to remember for the rest of your life.

if you look down over the rail of the deck into the fenced yards below, you see lightening bugs signaling their bright green blinking hellos to each other. somewhere i read that this a communication of danger. i watch them and decide that i'd like to contradict the scientists on this one. i'd like to think of it as their doing the same thing we are--scattered throughout the dark city blocks participating in a contagion of bioluminescent insect friendship.

"someone reaching for me now
through the dark, reaching for me now
you need someone to hear you when you sigh
someone to wipe away those tears you cry
someone to hold you 'neath the darkened sky
and someone to love you more than i..."
alexi murdoch, through the dark.

i hope you are getting a chance to occasionally sit on dimly lit porches, wave some sparklers and talk about life during this fine month. it'd be a real pity to miss it.

soundtracks:
alexi murdoch: through the dark
rachel yamagata: meet me by the water
cinematic orchestra: to build a home

and good reads:
soule papa: note to self