It's a fall evening
Let's just go somewhere for a minute:
It's an evening in October. You're 15,30,45, I don't care: the age you feel is an eternal 7. An age that still finds jack-o-lanterns endearing even as coffee companies try to claim pumpkins and fall was their idea.
The air smells like mowed yellow grass and a campfire. There are scarecrows (so many scarecrows). But they have big silly smiles and farmer’s hats. I guess crows are terrified of farmers with big grins.
Hay bales transform from horse food to a place to sit, a table, or maybe we’ll chuck a few into a trailer, hop onto it, and pull it around with a tractor (A good rule of thumb: Hay rides are fun for everyone under 10 or over 35).
It's barely a quarter past 7 p.m., but the sun is down, holding on with a hint of blue on the horizon. You pull the hood up on your sweatshirt and pull the strings at your neck to tighten it onto your ears. Actually, a little cold for a moment is nice on your ears. Let it happen.
Yes, the campfire smell is strong as Grandpa stokes this artwork of a blaze he's built. But you can still smell the leaves on the ground. You remember how the bottom of the pile smelled when you used to dive bomb into it. Grandpa would laugh and rake the strays.
That wagon is still in the shed. The one Dee Daw used to haul the leaves. He probably couldn't pull you in it like he used to. Dee Daw's lost some strength (a fact you are all too aware of because he complains about the length he's lost from his golf game).
Why does the colder weather make you feel more alive? Maybe that's just evolutionary science: Winter and the threat of death approaches, so the biological forces in you bent on surviving the harsh months are preparing to meet it. You. Will. Survive. LIFE.
Or maybe you live in a world God intended to be beautiful, even when it gets cold, dark, and harsh. Perhaps the cold doesn't scare you because spring will come again, winter has a ticking clock — it doesn’t get the final say. So we can enjoy the cold months and how they feel on our ears for a while.
But those thoughts are for the adult. Let's get back to that 7-year-old. To him, the stars seem a little closer in the winter. Looking up at them, you let out a breath you can see, which rises up into the sky with the sparks from the fire.
Of course, Nana has everything required for s'mores. You and Dee Daw might debate whether marshmallows are better if they're slowly roasted until gold or stuck right into the fire and burned black beyond recognition.
The debate gets nowhere because you're as stubborn as his golf game.
Your ears are cold, and your tongue is burned a bit from the marshmallow, but your smile is as big as that jack-o-lantern.