Invitation

At midnight the round of shutting off and closing up before bedtime began. The door to the deck I left ’til the end; the breeze coming through felt irresistibly cool and damp. Despite the lateness of the hour I couldn’t bear not to take a quick turn around outside before retiring for the night.

The moon was just rising from behind a row of trees and rooftops in the middle distance. Half-full and generously swollen it balanced in the branches as I hung over the deck rail to watch, entranced.

At that hour the neighborhood, swarming during the day with young families and the elderly, was utterly still. Unseasonably chill weather silenced the usually omnipresent hum of air conditioners. Even the birds and the bugs had turned in for the night.

In past years the back yard had been lit by a dozen solar powered path lights, but once my son learned to walk he thoughtfully plucked out each shiny “flower,” depositing them in my lap like a cat gifting its human with still-warm mice. At the time I sighed as I relocated the flowers to inaccessible parts of the yard. I’d rued the wanton wake of destruction that followed him everywhere, but as I dawdled before bed the yard’s lack of light brought to mind a plan.

What if, I wondered, my partner could be persuaded to creep at midnight out to the darkened, silent garden with me? Would he be willing to dart nearly naked to the extra-black darkness beneath the tree? Would he spread out a blanket with me and try not to disturb the quiet as we took advantage of the still neighborhood and each other? Could we be quiet enough?

Soon I’ll get to see him, on a night where no children will slumber fitfully behind windows overlooking the back yard or rise early to interrupt the hours of sleep we lost under the tree. Partner, please consider this blog entry as an invitation to join me in a midnight adventure very soon.

Will you?