Another Summer Day

I’ve just woken up, and the smell of grass, flowers, and trees wafts in through the kitchen window as I heat water in the kettle on the stove for my coffee.  I turn on the radio to hear, Summer Breeze, by Seals and Crofts, and smile at the moment’s synchronicity.

Another breeze gently billows the kitchen window curtain and this time the scents carried in place me back to a summer morning when I was fifteen.  I’d been woken up around five that morning by my friend, Steven, who urged me to get dressed quickly because he was taking me and his son somewhere.  When I asked where he said: “Nevermind that, just hurry up!”.

I pulled on my shorts and shirt, brushed my teeth, and ran out the door to his idling truck.  His sleepy-eyed four year-old son smiled at me, and I grinned back as I slid into the seat beside him, and we were on our way.

Steven would only say that we were headed up to Leyden, and that he wanted to show us something.  We rode in silence for several miles, Steven’s son having fallen back asleep as we drove on.  Steven finally broke the silence by announcing that we were almost there.  We turned off the main road onto a dirt, tractor path, heading out toward a field ahead of us.  It looked as though the path was not often used as a patch of thick grass grew in the rise between the tire ruts, and thin weeds spotted the tracks themselves.

Steven drove his truck to a rise in a copse of trees and parked.  He got out and motioned for us to do the same.  Steven picked up his son as we got out of the truck, and I followed him to the edge of the trees overlooking another field where he stopped, telling us to crouch down and be very quiet.  He began speaking in a loud whisper about a morning some months before when he and another friend had been camping at that very spot and witnessed a UFO rising from the field below into the sky early that next morning; the only sound they heard was a deep hum, as you might hear in an electrical plant.

He continued telling us how he and his friend watched the massive disk-shaped craft rise straight up until it cleared the tree line, and then sped up in diagonal trajectory, gone from their sight within seconds.  After some time in disbelief of what they had seen, and in fear that the craft might re-appear, they hesitantly made their way down into the field to find flattened grass, but no other trace that anything unusual had been there.

I felt scared as we watched the field, but nothing happened.  Steven brought us down into the field after waiting expectantly for what seemed like the better part of an hour, but nothing had been disturbed, and he was disappointed because he said he had a feeling that we might witness the UFO again.  I gave him a look of sympathy, but inwardly felt relieved that nothing had happened while we were there.

He took us out to breakfast before heading back home.  Later, I told my friends Steven’s story, but they scoffed and said he was just messing with me.  I laughed it off with them as a good practical joke, but knew that Steven had been quite sincere.

I think about that morning from time to time and always feel special that he chose me to share it with.  He must have known that out of anyone else he could have asked, I’d believe him.  I hope to see an alien craft someday, but have no wish to meet alien beings – even if they’re harmless.  I’ve seen too many movies that display the opposite qualities.




© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Life On Earth’s Blog, 2010 – infinity.

Author: Hermionejh

Laughter is my drug.

2 thoughts on “Another Summer Day”

  1. What a sweet and moving story. You must have meant a lot to him because we don’t share our special moments with just anybody. By the way, I do believe there are UFO’s, but like you I’ve seen too many movies depicting another species as being evil. I don’t think I want to come in contact with a being from another planet, just yet. But then, who knows…they may be walking among us.

    1. Thanks, Brenda. I did have a sweet friendship with Steven, and especially his son, who I used to watch sometimes. It’s funny how a scent, or a song, can bring you back to how you felt, or what you were doing, when you first experienced it. I’m grateful I have a good memory.

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