Believing Again

I remember heavy summer evenings when the tired sun would sink into the shadows of the horizon. When the last remnants of day would meet to mingle with the evening for a few moments before parting to say goodbye. The stars would begin to appear in the lavender twilight that gently gave way to the deep purple of the night.

Laughter and voices of my parents and neighbors chatting mixed with the sounds of crickets carried through the air on a hot evening breeze; as the other children on the block and I played just out of reach of their shadows.

A childhood melody that still plays in my mind.

Barefoot in the grass and cautious of the slimy slugs that seemed to find their way beneath our feet. We would watch as the night came alive. One by one they seem to materialize out of the darkness filling it with the flickering dance of fireflies.

Bright green glimmers of light lasting only for a moment before fading back into the darkness from which they emerged. Shrieks of surprise and laughter echoed into the deepest parts of my being as we chased them through the night.

I would reach for them; tiny star shaped hands wrapping around the little piece of darkness that seemed to shine. I would peak into my cupped hands amazed at the treasure that glowed within them.

Whispering to them I would give them my wishes for safe keeping then release them back into the darkness to carry away my hopes to the land of dreams.

Life was magical in every moment.

I sometimes wonder what happened to me that life lost its brilliant luster and tarnished as the years past.

When did I decide to stop seeing the magic?
Who told me it wasn’t real?

When did I stop believing?

Each month as the full moon begins to emerge I become an insomniac and with it’s forthcoming arrival I could not sleep last night. I try to read, write to fight it. But there’s nothing to fight except myself; until finally I surrender to the truth that sleep will not come till its wants to.