Twinkling. Again.

On the old hike and bike trails in The Woodlands, especially through the back areas of Grogan's Mill and Panther Creek villages, the forest grows up high and tangled on either side of the concrete path. It's been years since I've ridden a bicycle through here. Perhaps 25 years? Then I did not have a driver's license, but nothing could keep me from spending hours at the local magazine stand pouring over photos of George Michael and eating packages of SweetTarts. I've spent a little time riding on these trails again since I've been back in my hometown, but not at dusk until tonight. There was something special about tonight, a feeling in the air, the way the sun was setting, something that made me want to take a ride for an hour or so and enjoy the time of day. Or was it my thoughts that needed some gentle meditation? I spent the afternoon with an old friend, could it have been 25 years that has passed between us as well? My mind stirs, circles, and repeats, stirs, circles, and repeats - what kindness this person has brought into my new life. I feel blessed.

My ride took me back to my old house. The trim has been repainted, a dark reddish-brown I'm not sure my mother would like on "her" house. The brick is the same pink I remember. The house seems small, as I guess they always do when you go back. The trees are all bigger, that must be the trick. I ride to look at the big new houses on the lake. Lovely. I stop there at the lake briefly to watch the sky turning purples and oranges, and I consider writing there but move on. The smell of dinner cooking comes from many of the lit houses as the trails take me behind their back fences and gates. I don't see or hear people, it is very quiet. I head towards home and my route goes right in front of my old high school. While passing I hear what is unmistakably the sound of bagpipes. The mascot's bagpipes -- memories of pep rallies and football and a million awkward and fun high school moments flood my thoughts.

I was still smiling at this as I crossed a street towards the last segment of the trail before home. It seemed much darker on this part of the trail. Heavily wooded, on one side is a golf course shielded by giant pines covered in vines, and somewhere beyond the forest on the other side are more gently lit houses with active kitchens I can smell. 

I immediately slow my speed when I notice -- the forest is twinkling.

For the past few weeks I haven't been able to notice much, or feel much, or be much. But tonight the fireflies were out for me again. They welcomed me into the quiet forest, and accompanied me in flashes of my periphery all the way home.