There’s just something about a summer night. The sun drops slowly, and the air starts to cool, just a little. The chorus of crickets begins to sing, orchestrated by the stars as they appear overhead. A breeze brushes past and your skin buzzes. Possibility fills the air. Anything could happen. You sit and watch dusk turn to dark and let all your secrets out.
To me summer was always camp. Going to camp, working at camp. It was all the same. A bunch of people who saw each other once a year, or maybe met once and never again, come together and share experiences that bring them together like nothing else can. It was the place I shared things that only my journal got to hear the other 46 weeks out of the year.
This summer I did not work at camp. I longed for just one “summer night”. Just one night where I let my guard down and let the magic of summer envelop me and the person I was with. I’ve had a lot of great nights this summer, dancing and laughing and having fun. But something was missing.
This past weekend I went to visit my friend in Brooklyn. We walked to the park and drank smoothies. We laughed as all the owners let their dogs run free and hump one another. We talked. Deep. Frustrated. Angry. Loving. And when we had finished we climbed up onto her roof. We meditated, right on the edge, floating above all the twinkling city lights. We were filled with possibility. Anything can happen.
It was the perfect summer night.