I was feeling grateful for the crickets. There had been a delay within the pest control company getting the message that I did not want them spraying for crickets. I like crickets. They are the pest of choice for me and a welcome replacement for us all to the roaches of the city. The pest control company insincerely apologized before mansplaining a rationale about how rats eat crickets. I nodded and told them that I only wanted them to monitor the rat traps and no, I wasn’t interested in their termite inspections either, thank you.
I used to hate the sound of Cicadas because it meant the summer was ending. But I’ve learned in my old age that there is a season for everything, and each season needs to be savored.
The days slip away almost as fast as the years now as time with my boys amounts to a shared video game or TV series in between summer Taekwondo lessons, camp, theater and art. We used to camp or at least build fires for S’mores in the backyard. Now, we flick a switch for a gas flame on the deck or just make them inside, in a microwave.
It was one of those last lazy summer afternoons. He came out to lounge in the pool with me because I’d just read the first draft of his college essay and felt we needed to discuss it. But he’d been napping and I knew he had come solely because I’d beckoned him. He hadn’t really wanted to swim in this 5 foot tall above ground pool for years now.
And so we did discuss it, but the conversation waned. I felt uneasy and so I encouraged him on to the inflatable pizza which was the pool recreational float of choice. It kept you out of the water and therefore warm and almost dry on these late afternoons that were cooler than we’d grown accustomed to.
He brought up feeling hopeful. We discussed quantum immortality. That lead to more theories regarding Mandela Effects, some art we shared a love of, some sci fi, psychology, theology, current events, politics… We talked about the possibility that we’re all really dead, and this is some kind of afterlife. We decided that if reality is a simulation, we’d both be oddly ok with that. The things I can discuss with him I cannot easily discuss the same way with any other, as he’s grown under my best effort and at the peak of my best guidance.
Soon, however, we drifted into a peaceful quiet. I marveled at my own euphoria in his presence that I felt mix with this nostalgic freedom to actually close my eyes, content with a connection to his every position adjustment that I could feel as we wobbled softly amidst this finite surface. The Cicadas sounded different than they used to though. They sounded either far off, or more like crickets. I honestly couldn’t tell which.