Crickets. (not the Buddy Holly kind)


Once upon a time, on a return trip from the cottage with a car full of my folks, my self, and I think at least 4 of my sisters, we got a flat tire on the trailer we were hauling.  The trailer was full of what was left after a trip of the kind, and all the stuff that came back home with us, and so it was still pretty full.  We couldn’t just leave it there and come back the next day.  After driving around looking for an service station (they had those at the time, but we couldn’t find an open one) it was finally decided we would spend the night with the car and trailer at the side of the highway until the service station we did find opened. An adventure.  The car was a big ol’ 1971 Chrysler ‘Newport’ and could easily transport us, but it wasn’t going to work with us all trying to sleep what was left of the night.  I was lucky enough to have ended up sleeping on a lawn chair, the long kind that you could lay out flat if you wanted to, at the side of the highway between the car and the ditch.  It was awesome.  I lay out under the stars.  The trucks roaring by were something, but it was the crickets I’ll never forget.  I’m brought back to that exact time when ever I hear a lot of crickets.  There were so very many of them all ‘chirping’ in such an endless wave, I don’t know if I fell asleep or into a trance.


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