What Night Is Like Here in the Country :: May 22nd, 2002 ::
Last night, I stood outside on the back porch for a few minutes. Afterward, I was inspired to write the following:
Tonight is the first night that the moon is out. A thin blanket of clouds spans the entire dome of sky overhead, but the moon shines through it, casting its pale, haunting light over everything. Prehistoric chirps of some animals I can’t identify create a subtle white noise, which is interrupted only by the passing of cars, which usually travel singly, sometimes two at a time. I imagine they are driven by local kids, out on a quest for pot or maybe for some older ne’er-do-well who might get them beer. There’s a magic to these sorts of nights, which I have only experienced when I have been here. The silence is an anticipatory one; it is perfect.
Kind of nice, I thought. Afterward, content with myself, I sat down to watch a movie. I hand not cleared the previews yet when I looked out onto the road and saw a van slowing down and pulling over. It looked like it was going to pull into the driveway. Then another van, this one painted with what turned out to be curly-cues, flowers, and goofy school slogans. Then another van came by. That one slowed down, too.
Now, since I’m out here in the mountains like this, and the cars that do come by tend not to stop, I thought that something might be amiss. So I paused the movie, put on my shoes, grabbed my flashlight, and went out to see what was going on.
There were a dozen high school kids standing on the shoulder, many of them spilling out onto the road itself. They were talking, laughing, swatting at each other. I couldn’t tell: was there an accident? A flat tire? Did the driver start convulsing at the wheel and have to pull over?
I picked out one of the kids, a tall one who had freckles and close-cropped hair. I asked him: “hey, is everything OK?”
“Yeah, my buddy, he, uh,” he stammered, “our school is doing a fund raiser, and my buddy, well, he’ll be running through here soon. We’re here to cheer him on.”
Ah, the obligatory high school fund raisers. I wondered whatever happened to selling pizzas. Or candy bars. I guess the market for the more traditional methods of raising money have all but dried up since I was in high school. Not sensing I was invited to stick around, I said, “ah, cool” and went inside, wondering if that was what I was anticipating when I was wrapped up in all that silence a few minutes earlier.
But that was yesterday. Today, I try my hand at painting the barn.
