day 8: the summer loop

I remember the first time I had the idea: 

how to let Deb's kids wear themselves out 

at the end of those late summer days, 

and give the adults time for after-dinner conversation. 

The kids were fairly young, if I remember correctly, 

    although my memory's not what it used to be, 

probably around seven and four, or perhaps six and three. 

Our house in the hills sat three stories on a steep slope, 

and we had a perfect path that looped 

from the first floor deck, 

    down through the small green-and-garden patch 

        of backyard that we'd grown, 

    down the winding red wooden steps that led 

        to the gazebo, 

    then back up the grading gravel path 

        behind the garage, 

    pell-mell across the bottom of the driveway, 

    down the stairs, 

    and back onto the deck. 

I would time them with a small hourglass 

as they raced around this loop 

    two, three, four times, 

until they were winded. 

The hourglass only ever lasted a minute, 

    but I would turn it back over a few times 

    so that each time they got back to me, 

    they would think they were the fastest runners for their ages. 

Each lap they'd run, 

I'd sit and watch the high sunset over the trees 

    and sink into one of the lounge chairs, 

    sometimes a glass of wine on the table next to me, 

listen to the murmurs and the laughter of my grown children and Vince in the dining room, 

    the rustle of whatever nocturnal wildlife was moving around, 

    the buzz of the evening bugs as they settled in for sleep, 

and feel the dusk cool my arms and legs, 

and thank God--someone--the sky for this time. 

I wonder if the kids ever found out about the hourglass trick.