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Duskish

Mon, 25 Jul 2016, 08:38 PM (-06:00) Creative Commons License

“Smell them air,” I said as we crossed into Michigan.

Ben was behind the wheel. Trudy was in the backseat. I was in front snapping pictures of the lowering sun and the shadow of our car reaching out on the green growing beside the road as we raced that final stretch north. North to the lake. 

“Will you be here for dinner?” my brother texted. “What is your ETA.”

“Definitely not there by dinner,” I said.

“But what’s your ETA?”

“We’re hoping to make sunset, but we’ll probably miss it. Expect us dusk-ish.”

At 0-dusk-30, Ben turned the car onto that two-rut drive that we’ve driven down so many times.

“That’s our yellow gate,” he said. A gate that he and his cousins painted a few years ago as the mosquitos waged a determined campaign agains them.

We drove down that drive thru the forest. Drove toward the lake. Arrived to the hooting and hollering of those who were already there. We hooted together. We hugged. And we walked down to the lake, which the iPhone captured in good enough fashion that I thought I might share it with you.

© jumpingfish by David Hasan is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License