There is a peace that comes in the summer darkness. It is best felt when sitting outside, studying the vast heavens and allowing the mild breeze to gently stroke the face and hair. It is a quiet reprieve from the sultry days of the June-July solstice, when heat and sweat seem to have no limit. The torrid sun surrenders to the more temperate stars, creating a momentary repose from the unbearable warmth.
The aftereffects of the day’s yard work had caught up with me. My skin felt taut and flushed with sunburn. The palms and fingers of my hands were stiff. It felt as though my shoulders had a bit of rust in them, and a rather dull ache radiated through the low back.
It was time to call it a day and get ready for bed. The ice in my glass of lemonade chimed as I lumbered out of the lawn chair and headed into the house. A couple of ibuprofen, followed by a tranquil shower, eased the pain in my bones enough to allow me some shut-eye. The glow of a small bedside lamp guided my body to the mattress.
My eyes closed, as I made a mental petition. “Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray thee, Lord, my soul you’ll keep. Your love goes with me through the night and wakes me with the morning light.” I never cared much for that “If I should die before I wake” crap. Aunt Bea’s greatest fear was of dying in her sleep. She used the older version of this entreaty, and her soul was taken in slumber.
The aftereffects of the day’s yard work had caught up with me. My skin felt taut and flushed with sunburn. The palms and fingers of my hands were stiff. It felt as though my shoulders had a bit of rust in them, and a rather dull ache radiated through the low back.
It was time to call it a day and get ready for bed. The ice in my glass of lemonade chimed as I lumbered out of the lawn chair and headed into the house. A couple of ibuprofen, followed by a tranquil shower, eased the pain in my bones enough to allow me some shut-eye. The glow of a small bedside lamp guided my body to the mattress.
My eyes closed, as I made a mental petition. “Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray thee, Lord, my soul you’ll keep. Your love goes with me through the night and wakes me with the morning light.” I never cared much for that “If I should die before I wake” crap. Aunt Bea’s greatest fear was of dying in her sleep. She used the older version of this entreaty, and her soul was taken in slumber.
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