Night Swim

We gathered our clothes and headed back up the trail in the deepening shadows. The moon was heading down into the trees; the fireflies redoubled their efforts as their competition departed. We packed ourselves into the old Beetle and started back. Deana's hand twisted around the back of the seat to hold mine.

The girls left me at the steps of my house, where the adventure started. I sat and listened to the Beetle's metallic song dwindle in the night, to leave the crickets once more in charge of the night music. I had had my first time, when I least expected it, and in a way that would probably be the envy of the other guys, if I ever talked about it. I didn't think I would.

Even now, as the limb of the moon sinks finally over the western hills and the last shimmer on the lake below winks out, it seems almost a midsummer night's dream; a puckish prank on a nerdy dreamer. Did it really happen, or have I been dreaming on the porch?

Perhaps it did.