Monday night s’mores
The air is chilly and the sliver of moon hasn’t risen yet. It definitely feels like fall when the neighbors call to invite us for a campfire and s’mores on a Monday night and we need jackets and sweatshirts. We sat out at the foot of their hill, adding wood to the fire, catching up on the last several months, and mushing toasty marshmallows with chocolate between graham crackers. My strategy is to shove my piece of chocolate into the center of the warm marshmallow and end up with a gooey, melty mess, sans graham. Delicious. Is it really fall now? Is summer really over already?
The dog, Rudy, is wagging his tail and avidly staring at his ball-on-a-rope, hoping that I’ll throw it for him. Dogs always seem to misread me as a lover of mutts, but no luck, they’ve found a cat lover instead. So Ralph pulls the toy away and tosses it over and over and Rudy streaks off, all speed and muscle and energy. Elizabeth, our friends’ toddler, who hasn’t quite decided we’re trustworthy enough to talk to, has marshmallow in her hair, and their newborn boy makes smiley eyes at us and chews on his fist. I forgot how good this sugar and chocolate mess tastes, all sticky and smokey tasting. It started to rain a bit- a cool, chill rain that makes the fire feel even better. Can summer really have passed so soon?
Walking back across the street, I can’t believe how deep the darkness is. It’s only by the feel of the gravel underfoot that I’m confident we’re still on the driveway. My hair smells like campfire and I’m looking forward to flannel sheets on the bed and a down comforter. Sleep always sounds better when there’s cool air coming in the window. It’s when we finally close the windows that I’ll give in to the end of summer, but tonight will not be that night.