When I was young I had a 9:00 P.M. curfew, except for the first day of the summer, for which my mother graciously extended our play time one hour to 10:00 P.M. in honor of the longest day of the year. For a few years, this was our tradition–exploring the neighborhood by bike or by scooter until the last bits of summer sun had dissipated amidst the corn stalks and fire flies filled the sky.
One year we rode scooters down from the gravel road behind our house through the backyard. Jeremy, disoriented in the darkness, inadvertently jumped his scooter off the three retaining walls in our side yard. Our laughter echoed off the neighboring houses and our bellies cramped from the effort as we rolled around in the grass.
It was only a few years before I was old enough that my curfew was extended, but the magic of that day lived on. This year, Tara and I decided to take a walk through our neighborhood to Parley’s Park. We found ourselves in an adventurous mood, taking streets we had never been on and following Parleys Creek far into the park. When we reached the far end of the park, at a place where young people do something called “Shooting the Tube”, I realized it was 9:30 and we were nearly 2 miles from home.
So we walked back towards the sunset, the Salt Lake City skyline and Antelope Island in the distance pasted against the pink sky.