Dusking Hour

“Go outside and play, but be home for supper,” Mom said as she dismissed us to go do what children do.

We went into the woods, played games we invented, climbed trees, enjoyed hide-and-seek and kick-the-can. We disputed, negotiated, settled.

Always, and way too soon, the street lights popped, buzzed and brightened that dreaded dusking hour. Then it was time to get home, wash up, eat, watch some TV, then to bed.

We hopped on our bikes, disbanding with the promise to be back in the tomorrow. Adulting would come too soon for us, who peddled away from the nighttime.