“Come with me” said the grandmother to her grandson. “I want to show you something.” Intrigued, the boy walked with his grandmother out the door to the porch at the front of the house. She sat down in an old rocking chair that had been there for many years, and he sat in a low chair by her side. It was a late summer day. The sun hugged the western horizon.
“What do you want to show me?” asked the boy. “Just watch and wait,” said his grandmother. “Just watch and wait.”
It was quiet and calm. The boy heard a sprinkler from up the street. He smelled fresh cut grass. He saw long shadows cast by the trees as the sun continued its descent. A man walked by with his dog, waved at the boy and his grandmother. The blue sky became indigo, streaks of red still in the west. Birds were chirping and singing in the trees, and two squirrels were chasing each other, back and forth. Across the street, in the darkness that slowly formed between houses, the magical glimmer of lightning bugs, twinkling in the air. The boy looked up to the heavens, and he saw the first stars appearing in the sky, the spiral light of Venus rising first and shining best.
He looked at his grandmother. Deep lines in her face, and a bright light in her eyes. Night slowly came down around them. Leaves rustled in the breeze, and the streetlights came on, one by one, with a strange and soft groaning sound, almost reluctant in their casting of light into the night.
How long they sat there the boy was not sure. He heard crickets and the croaking of frogs, in the distance cars traveling on the highway, the soft breathing of his grandmother, his own heart beating. Night had come. They sat there for a time, as if to make sure. Now there were many stars, hundreds, thousands of them illuminating the darkened sky. He heard the creak of his grandmother’s rocking chair. She got up and took his hand. Together they walked back into the warm light of the house.