Amanda DeSalme, Night

There is something magical about a nice cool summer night. I feel invigorated and my senses are overcome with stimulation- the smell of fresh cut grass, the caress of the moist air, the gentle breeze, the crescendo of an orchestra of cicadas, the mysterious moon or the sparkling stars in the vast void of dark nothingness. It is so energizing to be outside and just enjoying life at night. I remember spending time marvelling at the nighttime with my father and sister when I was a child. It was so quiet with small night music and things to look at and talk about. We would tiptoe barefoot out into the grass timidly, eyes slowly adjusting to the dim moonlight. Sometimes we would walk around the neighborhood and sometimes we would throw a blanket on the ground so we could ly and watch the sky. We would talk in hushed whispers, sensing the sacredness of the mysterious wild nature that comes to life at night. There is so much life around us that we are not aware of. For instance, Cicadas spend 13-17 years underground as nymphs before they dig their way up into the air and start serenading us with their music. Annie Dillard talks about cicadas in her book Pilgrim at Tinker Creek:

"In the dark of an April night the nymphs emerge, all at once, as many as eighty-four of them digging into the air from every square foot of ground. They inch up trees and bushes, shed their skins, and begin that hollow, shrill grind that lasts all summer. I guess nymphs never see the sun. Adults lay eggs in slits along twig bark; the hatched nymphs drop to the ground and burrow, vanish from the face of the earth, biding their time, for thirteen years. How many are under me now, wishing what? What would I think about for thirteen years? They curl, crawl, clutch at roots and suck, suck blinded, suck trees, rain or shine, heat or frost, year after groping year" (Dillard, 97).

Cicadas and many other creatures are constantly crawling around underneathe our feet every day and we are not aware. When I enjoyed the nighttime with my father and sister, I would often sit there and wonder about all the animals that were in the dark, watching us. I would hear a rustle of a bush and wonder if it was wind or creature or both. There are so many lives out there we can commune with. I guess what I like so much about the nighttime is that it makes me aware. It is harder to see, therefore I am more aware that there is mystery to be aware of. And the more aware I am, the more in the present I am. And being in the present just feels good.