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It was an ordinary weekday night, but only by the calendar. The night’s events belied the usual routine nature of a Wednesday.   A friend spontaneously stopped by our new house to chat and we sat on the deck for awhile and chatted. I learned about her life in earlier years and we told her about when we were young. It was still humid and warm out, some would say uncomfortably so, but I appreciated soaking in a sense of summer with the sounds of birds, dogs and neighborhood life mixed with growing level of laughter as we discussed movies and marriage and raising kids. After she left, we walked down the street to a local coffee shop for a planned meeting with other friends. We sat outside under a large tree in four Adirondack-style chairs and two small tables. I drank iced coffee and listened as my friend described a recent biking trip across Wyoming she had just completed. She invited someone she biked with on the trip who also lives in our town to stop by so we could meet given that we’re practically back yard neighbors. The conversation was active and easy. Within a short time we realized we had other friends in common. I didn’t notice the dusk roll in until it was already past dark. Heat lightening flickered in the sky. We all gathered up our cups, said goodbye and headed home. Walking back down the quiet neighborhood street I listened to the cicadas overhead and was reminded of my childhood, sleeping with windows open and fans blowing (my parents still don’t have air conditioning). Maybe because of that experience, I love the sounds of nature on a summer evening and how they make me feel connected somehow to life. Maybe there’s something to these vacation-like moments squeezed into daily life. A weekend feel on a Wednesday night…works for me.

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