Friday Night Light

I wish you were here with me now.

I wish you could see what I see.
Green.
Two cats lolling. Shooting me dirty looks when I hit the keys too hard and shake the chair.
The sun still doing its part to keep the sky blue and the clouds white, even as it dips below the treeline and prepares for rest. It's the most magical kind of light, I think. You probably do, too.

I wish you could hear what I hear.
Din.
The nothingness that is really something, really life just outside the city.
Strains of the season's first ice cream truck melody as it turns a corner somewhere nearby, and elicits the muscle memory our faces store from childhood -- perked ears, wide, bright eyes and a perfectly shaped "o" as our mouths suck in the air and let out the sound of happy surprise.
The birds calling to one another, making plans for the holiday weekend ahead. The whippoorwill, flirting with the cardinal, eyeing the sparrow.
Laughter and chatter and people happy to be around one another. Happy to be where they are. Happy to be here.

I wish you could feel what I feel.
At ease.
The peace, the calm, the promise of summer in the air.
Relaxed.
Restless too. Ready for what's next. Another city, another chapter. Another beer.

I wish you could breathe what I breathe.
Freshness.
The air is different here, really. It's crisp and it's perfumed and it makes you want more of it. I could tell you about the flowers that force your head back and your nostrils open, make you pull deeply in so the fragrance enters you physically, except I don't know the names of very many flowers.
Someone's grill, smoky and thick and meaty.

It's just a backyard. There are millions of them. They've all got windchimes and neighbors and porch swings and beer bottles. I like to think that right now, right this minute, they're all warm and cool at the same time. They all hold the secret to good times and good things to come, to summer soaking in and time slowing down. And they're all lit, just like this.

I wish you would want what I want, to be here, with me, now.