Just a thought.

I walked out of work tonight into the cover of darkness.

I love walking outside in the dark.  I don't know why exactly. There's a secret involved perhaps? A secret just between me and the darkness that for as long as we are together we share?  

I love the smell of night, especially in the summer.  The odd flower floats along the breeze, the smell of the cooling blacktop, freshly cut grass.

Tonight, when I stepped out of my moonlighting job into the moonlight, the humidity was such that I swam under water to my car.  The air on my skin felt like the warm lake at midnight-that same air flowed through my hair as the water might when I dive under.

I reached the dry, stale air of my car and I chilled as the dampness evaporated off of my skin.

It made me melancholy.  Or as Big Daddy's Momma might say-I suddenly felt a little punk. 

It made me remember hot sweaty nights at my Granny's.  Miserable Arkansas nights that would have me sweating in my bedsheets, scratching at mosquito and chigger bites and wishing the window fan would pump out just a little more air.  If for no other reason than to get the musty smell of the spare room out of my nose.  But not so much air that the rattle of the fan would cover up the sound of the cicadas.

We must never, ever, cover up the sound of the cicada.

And even though the wet soup of air I had just left is miserable when combined with the bright, glaring, and intrusive sun-it is kind of comforting when combined with starlight.

Curious.