Gleek dashes across my field of view in the darkening twilight. She is pulling our plastic wagon which has been transformed into a pioneer covered wagon using branches clipped from our pear tree, a piece of white knit fabric, and duct tape. Historically accurate it is not, but it is enough that Gleek can imagine the rest. She’s ditched the long pioneer skirt and bonnet in favor of clothes which let her do tricks on her bike. The bike is parked in front of a house across the cul de sac and the wagon is the vehicle of the moment.
I am seated in a camp chair on our front porch. It is not the most attractive of porch decor, but I love having a place to sit. The house felt too close, too full of noise and people. I needed to be outside, so I came here with my laptop. I sit typing, and witnessing the evening pass. Most of the neighbor children have been called indoors, Gleek still pelts her way through her games. The house is too small for her most days. I notice that the street light has become the primary illumination. My laptop screen is bright in my face.
“Are you ready to come in?” I call to Gleek.
“Ten more minutes mom! Please?” She does not wait to hear my answer. She dashes on past with the empty wagon clattering along behind her. Go ahead and run for a bit more child. I’m not ready to go in either.