Tonight I spent a wonderful, laid-back and carefree evening with a friend—a friend I haven’t seen enough of this summer. It was a night that made me feel young. Not that I’m saying I’m now old and wizened… But it was a night that made me feel thirteen again—in a good way, mind you. I laughed a lot, which felt really great. As I drove home, I realized I don’t know if I’ve laughed as much as I did today since I’ve been home for the summer. We laughed, reminisced, told stories, and ATE. We spent an hour at Cici’s, stuffing our faces with pizza, garlic bread and those warm, soft cinnamon rolls that melt in your mouth. We’d eat and let our stomachs settle. Then we’d do it all over again. Once we’d finished our meal that would’ve made both our mothers frown, we drove the few blocks to her house. There we talked more, watched an episode of Gilmore Girls, and yes, we ate some more.
I knew it was going to be a good night, when on my way to my friend’s house, I couldn’t help but see the amazing sunset the sky was gifting to us. I was driving down the George H. W. Bush tollway and I was pretty high up, so I had a spectacular view. The trees, water towers and usually mundane looking buildings made a small, black silhouette against the bright sky. The sun was huge and a bright, flaming orange, and I practically watched the horizon come up to meet it. In literally only about five seconds, I watched it disappear behind a stretch of light purple clouds. I realized how important a few seconds had been to my sunset viewing experience, and I was grateful that I looked up when I did. And with that, the sun reappeared after another several seconds. As I drove down the exit ramp and made my way down Coit road, I kept my eyes toward the west as much as possible, watching the clouds and the light and colors change as the earth shifted.