“In each cloying bite, we consume the promise of summer.”
Simply Recipes / Claudia Cash
At dusk, we find new sources of light.
Theres the fairy strand of twinkle lights on the porch, winking giddily in the wind.
Simply Recipes / Claudia Cash
And the fireflies, whose green bodies flicker in and out of grass that could stand a mowing.
Its the start of magic.
A dessert sandwich for the young and young-at-heart.
In each cloying bite, we consume the promise of summer.
As if the smore could be improved.
My daughter is doubtful, but she promises to give it a try.
I dont remember having smores as a child.
We were never a campfire family.
But my husband enjoys the great outdoors.
Her marshmallow barely warms.
Whats left behind is a burnt black shell.
You eat that one, she says, wrinkling her nose.
My daughter likes the marshmallow alittlegooey, but not brown at all, thank you.
She enjoys the peanut butter, but ultimately prefers the old classic trio of ingredients.
Did I ever tell you about how Daddy and I rode horses up a mountain in Mexico?
My daughters eyes are wide.
She says, More!
A sly breeze makes its way across the lawn, which feels like an invitation.
For us, there is a stillness that emerges within the in-betweenness of dusk.
The day is behind us, but the velvet weight of night hasnt yet descended.
A door opens in our imagination.
I can see my daughter taking it in.
What is it about a bonfire that invites secrets?
Or maybe its something about the smellfire, barely controlled, mingling with Citronella and chocolate.
I wonder how many years more we have of this.
Maybe she will go away for college and spend her summers traveling.
And what I really want is some more of these summer nights, and then still even more.
