Staring out a screen door…

into the dark summer night.  What do you hear?  What do you smell?  I can remember so many instances of this in my life.  A glimpse just returned from my memory, something at my grandmother’s farm when we were visiting and the electric lights were on inside, people were talking and I looked out for some reason.  Another instance stands out more clearly, baking a cake in my mother’s kitchen as a teen in an apron, with the radio on and going to the back door for a breath of fresh air.  Why does that image hold so much import for my memory?  The dark, the screen door, the warm summer night… impart a sense of the uknown and adventure.

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