Summer Stars

My life growing up was far from perfect, and yet in some ways, looking back, it was like a fairy tale. Summers seemed to last forever. The days were so very, very long. As much as I loved the days immersed in water with swim practice in the early AM and late in the afternoon at the city park, there was something more. I also so loved those days just hanging out at the country club pool just living a little girl’s life in slow motion, but then there were those days that I often remember best, that happened just before nightfall, in the blue hour and the night beyond.

I roamed the neighborhood. I had a freedom that is hard to comprehend today. My territory extended from the country club to Marion School, including the Belvedere neighborhood. Everything was a walk or a bike ride away. One summer, I spent a good bit of time down at Linda Williams’s house on Peach Street. I was maybe eight or nine years old, Linda was a couple years younger than me, but until I was off to sixth grade, our friendship transcended age. For a couple weeks, kick the can became the evening agenda across the street at the Harrells’ house. Tracy, Kelly, and Wesley would invite us over right about dusk. Several other children in the neighborhood showed up to play as well. I remember hiding and holding my breath, so not to be found. The boundaries for the game were the lot lines of their house. There were quite a few trees and shrubs to hide behind or underneath, and the pending approach of night gave an eerie yet exciting transformation to the game site. Although I loved the game itself, there was more that I remember.

I still can see the black sky littered with stars. While hiding behind a log pile, I remember gazing up and noticing the clarity of the constellations. I became aware of their mystery, space, and the heavens. And yet, right there on Earth, I was surrounded by fireflies. The lightning bugs twinkled everywhere. It was as if Earth was a mirror to what I gazed at above. It was a magic that maybe only a little girl who kept her nose in a book would notice. The squeals and the laughter were like a soundtrack to this divinely inspired awareness. It all left me breathless, and the fear of the night transformed into a bravery of the light.

I had to be home before 9:30 as long as my parents knew where I was. So a little past nine, Linda would walk me halfway home. We would walk quickly up towards Parkwood Road. We would talk the entire time, and once at our destination, it grew quiet as I would watch Linda turn and run home. I would wait to see her pass Forest Hill, and then turn to continue my own journey towards home. It was silent except for the buzz of crickets. The street was empty, and I would pass all the familiar houses with light pouring from the windows. People would pass by the true divided light, and I could see the flicker of their TVs. I continued to walk, carefully with an awareness for possible monsters lurking in the shadows. My heart would beat fast, and yet I would gaze up at the beautiful sky and wonder “Who was up there.” My eyes would return to the earth as the fireflies enveloped me, twinkling like diamonds in the warm summer night.

When I reached Spring Garden Drive, I turned and made my dash for home. I ran as fast as I could until I saw the lights down the hill at my house, the porch lights at the door waiting for me to come home. I ran up the front steps and opened the front door, my collie mix met me there wagging her fluffy tail. I gave Windy a hug, and then yelled, “Mom I’m home”…as the door slammed behind me. She would say, “I was starting to get worried about you.” I would walk into the kitchen, and she would be opening the freezer to grab a gallon of Superbrand ice cream bought at the Winn-Dixie. The carton was sitting in the bottom of the freezer under peas and green beans. She would scoop out a few spoonfuls into a bowl, and place it on the kitchen table for me, and then fix another for herself. We would sit down as if the summer night might last forever. Sadly, it didn’t.

I heard several years ago that Wesley Harrell had passed away from lung cancer. It sent shockwaves through my system. It was hard for me to grasp that this beautiful little girl whom I once knew was no longer here somewhere walking on this Earth. I am not sure I had even seen her since high school, yet those moments and so many people are always with me. I am sure she is now somewhere in that beautiful starlit sky, our journey towards God on the other side. I remain here on Earth with the twinkling fireflies, that is what is left of them. I contemplate what happened to the magic, the summer days that disappeared into night. I think the disappearance of the lightning bugs should make us pause, as well as the humans we have grown to love and lost, our lives so very fragile.

And this from an article Wesley wrote about her life after her diagnosis:

We’ve always made choices based on being happy rather than rich. A few years ago we gave up stable careers in landlocked Columbus, Georgia, said good-bye to the rat race, and moved to a home on Sanibel Island, in Florida. We had no jobs and no plan; we just knew it would work. And it did. Now Jim’s an independent accounting rep for an international company, so when he’s not traveling we ride our bikes to the coffeehouse and the beach. We walk to the lighthouse and pick up shells. I mean, who gets to do that? — Wesley Harrell Fay — 10/23/12hbp

“So young wise, yet too late smart” may be truer than “Too soon old too late smart”