Sitting on the front porch, sipping a glass of lemonade, watching the kids dart in and out of shadows as twilight falls, I can't help but sigh with contentment. This is the time of year when fireflies wink in the bushes, and you can hear scattered shouts and squeals as kids play tag or basketball or, more than likely, football. This is the time for popsicles and dixie cups and water guns, the time when parents pull out the lawn chairs and barbeques, and the true American family spills onto the front lawns of the neighborhood. You hear, "howdy's" and "evening ma'am", sometimes the clink of a spur if someone has just come off the ranch, but more often the roar of motorcycles as people start pulling out their summer toys.
The smells of a Texan summer evening waft in and out of the trees. Sometimes they linger if the wind dies down, but more often they slip by. It's a peculiar scent filled state. Gasoline mixes with exotic tropical flowers, the scent of sweet fruits mingles with bug spray and sunscreen, and of course the faintest smell of damp sweat. It's a nice smell. The smell of hard work, determination and success.
I miss having Tanner in the chair next to me. I find it funny because it's not as if he ever really sat in the chair when we would come out here in the evenings. He would be the one chasing the kids, or he would be chasing the squirrel, cat or dog or any other stray animal he happened to see.
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