nocturnal

Summer has arrived in Michigan, and I am starting to feel like my old self.  I'm a desert rat, and only feel at home in the heat.  As far as I am concerned cold weather is for polar bears, penguins and humpback whales, not for human beings.  I'm off kilter through out the winter months- cranky, cold, and constantly shivering- I typically struggle to put my best self forward.  But when the sun is shining and the warm air wraps around me like a favorite blanket, Davina returns.


It's been a wonderful spring in Michigan, and probably the first real spring since moving here.  For the last couple of years, the weather jumped  from sub zero temperatures to triple digit numbers on the thermometer.  It was one extreme to the next in a blink of an eye.  This year however, spring has matured slowly and its progression has been beautiful.  I've enjoyed watching the flowers bloom and the trees come back to life with all of the various pinks, reds, blues, purples and greens refreshing the landscape after a winter of dingy brown.  It has a revitalizing impact on my soul.  And although the days of glorious sunshine and vivid colors are amazing, spring is missing one important aspect - warm nights.  


There's something magical, and very romantic, about a warm, summer night.  It's always a little weird to be outside at night without a jacket - it feels as though you are privy to something special and unheard of.  I feel as if I am a member of a private club that only a select few people get to experience.  It's eerie because typically we associated darkness with cold, so it's an unexpected curve ball to embrace the warm temperatures.  Plus, it reminds me of my teenage years growing up in Vegas.  Vegas' summers are un-Godly hot and most people stay indoors, unless of course you are in a pool lathered in sunscreen.  The night is for the locals, when we come out of our air conditioned caves, and embrace the darkness.


I have fond memories of late nights spent on my parent's back patio with my teenage friends - without a care in the world, or a single jacket within the group - we would pass the time with jokes and laughter into the wee hours of the morning.  We were carefree and felt invincible.  Those were our nights filled with thoughts of love, change and uncertain futures.  We opened our hearts to each other during those late, midnight hours transforming ourselves into the adults we would later become.  And although this might sound cliche, the warm nights made expressing our feelings safer and easier.  My mind wasn't preoccupied with feeling uncomfortably cold, and my body wasn't working hard to keep itself warm, so I was free to focus on myself.  My thoughts, my feelings and my expectations - all of which were overwhelming and totally confusing during my fragile, teen years.  But those pleasant Vegas nights saw me through the turbulent high school phase.


Last night was reminiscent of those balmy, Vegas nights.  I spent the evening with my husband and two close friends at dinner.  Afterwards, we walked a couple of blocks to Washtenaw Dairy to get dessert.  Sitting outside on the wooden bench in the dusk hours enjoying a strawberry ice cream cone, I felt 16 again.  I was warm.  I wasn't wearing a coat.  And I felt safe.