I open a window in the wee hours and hear crickets. It always makes me melancholy. Another summer winding down. More than half the year gone. The little boy who grew up next door is headed to college in Georgia today, and with that news, the love song of the male crickets — their constant chirping a plea for a mate — evokes a ticking clock, and more so each year. August is the Sunday night of the year. Tomorrow, it’s back to school and homework, back to work and industry, back to sober reality after a carefree summer or, at least, the illusion of one.
Published by Dan Rodricks
Dan Rodricks is a long-time columnist for The Baltimore Sun, winner of numerous national and regional journalism awards, a radio and TV personality, podcaster and fly angler. His narrative memoir, "Father's Day Creek," was published in May 2019 by Apprentice House at Loyola University Maryland. View all posts by Dan Rodricks
Dan Rodricks 
Dan , I am 65 years old and I get the same “Sunday night “ feeling you described , so well , every year. I’m always having to remind myself to enjoy “one day at a time” .
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Dan, I am 77 years old and have always hated the end of summer. However, I’ve always looked forward to my favorite season Fall. I have an 8th grade granddaughter who has already started her school year at the Lilly May Carroll Charter School in Baltimore. First day was August 12. At the moment, I am in New Orleans where it is hot, humid and daily downpours. First time I missed her first day of school. Oh, she had homework assignments!
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You captured the end of summer feelings perfectly. Thx for sharing.
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