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