A perfect evening.

Murder at Midnight was a favorite game among my cousins and I on summer nights. The darker the night, the better. Screams of laughter could be heard as each person was 'killed' in a glorified game of tag. Last night, I stood in the kitchen throwing together dessert, while Kenny was out front barbecuing. Jill and ten to fifteen of the neighbor' children were running around out front in their bathing suits screaming and squealing, reveling in Spring Break and Day Light Savings time. The sounds reminded me of my childhood, and I half expected one of my cousins to come running through the house. It was a perfect night.

The day started off boring and long, taking care of errand after errand. By the afternoon, we were hanging out in the front yard with the neighbors. The number of children swelled to around fifteen, and soon you could no longer pick out who was who. The ran as a mass from one yard to another. As the sun went down, the kids picked spots in the grass the eat hot dogs and banana pudding. The adults sat in lawn chairs, gathered around the barbecue pit, nibbling on sausage, waiting on steaks to cook.

By the time I took Jill inside to bed, she was hot and sticky and too tired to protest. She fell asleep with a smile on her face, and slept hard for the first time in weeks.

I am anxiously awaiting summer and endless evenings spent watching the kids run through the neighbor's sprinkler, chasing the dogs through the street, with the young girls teasing the little boys, and the little boys mocking protest, all while basking in the sunset. I yearn for more nights like these, where everything seems perfect and for a little while I forget I am the adult and have to resist the urge to join the game of tag or hopscotch.