Party lights on the prairie

20171217_075531.jpgIt finally rained last night.

All of the star-obscuring clouds we cursed in the dark became the first rain we have had in a while.

The world outside is refreshed. It smells wonderful and Izzy and I heard birds singing on our morning trot about town as if it were spring.

Last night we looked for late meteors and wondered why the clouds had to striate across the coal-dark December night sky so that even the free stars were not visible.

And then rain.

Most who have endured no-rain seasons will understand that moment of first-next rain when the dust and chaff have washed away and the earth has that new-world smell again.

We made several trips across the dark prairie last night. The sky was as flinty as the Flint Hills themselves.

My niece, nephew and I had gadded about for an afternoon of “away” – together. While traveling homeward to their nest 30 miles west of the Hobbit House on a road that includes the word “Old” in its name, I opened the first layer of sunroof for them. No stars to be seen.

I did this in hopes they would experience the same wonder I had had as a kid traveling back roads and “pig paths” – squished wherever the smallest of four kids could – and looking out into those deliciously inky nights. There were times we had seen fires cascading upwards in the distance in French backwaters, trees of white lights along the fields of sturdy German farmers and big, bold, colorful party lights of cities and homes in the U.S. It was magical – this wonderland of palpable dark and lights in the distance. Lighthouses in a sea of unknown.

If I could travel as a passenger again in the December darks and across the prairie, I’d love to lean my head against the window and dream. Let the coolness of the window pane on my cheek keep me alert to towns and fields and party lights on the prairie as we pass through.

Let me dream again. Remembering the old dreams of love and life and traveling adventures among new people and at a least a few well-loved familiar ones.

Let me dream again. New dreams. The dreams I am too afraid to become completely vulnerable to because memory serves too much of a bite.

Let me dream again. Hopeful dreams. Sparkling and quiet. Alone if they must be so. Dreams so bright and cheerful they resemble party lights on the prairie.

Join me. I have coffee and beverages to share and keep us warm.

Much love in the quiet of late.

Merry. Merry.


One thought on “Party lights on the prairie

  1. Lovely thoughts on a chilly winter morn… thanks again for sharing your heart and imagination. Merry Christmas friend. šŸ’Ÿā„ā˜ƒ

    Sent from Yahoo Mail on Android

    Liked by 1 person

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