Twilight sky

As I walked into the bedroom to turn on the light, I noticed the way the twilight made the shades glow, and that glow brought me back.

8:30 P.M. That must have been my bedtime, I think to myself.

I peer around the shade to see the last rays of the evening sun sinking to the horizon, turning the sky my favorite shade of blue, lined with a brilliant orange pink. I was no older than five when I slept in that apartment room, where the twilight sky brightened my shades.

It must have been closer to eight o'clock, I thought. My parents would not have let a five-year-old stay up past then, even on the best summer day.

"I can't go to bed," I used to tell my dad. "It's still light outside." I wanted to squeeze every minute I could out of that day.

My dad would chuckle, tuck the sheet under my chin, give me a kiss and tell me to go to sleep.

And I laid in my bed, watching the window shade slowly go dark. No thoughts in my head except what a shame it was to say goodnight to the light of day.

The twilight of a summer night stirs the memory of that simple, peaceful, innocent time I hold dear.


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