Sugar Hill

Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . My mind groggily pulls out of my wonderful maze of dreams. What on Earth is that? Why won't it just shut up! I roll over to drift back into blissful slumber, but then everything comes rushing back to me like a flash flood. I wake up in an instant, smack the alarm clock, and shoot to my feet. "No, I'm late!" I screech as I tear the blanket from my bed. I burst through the door and dash across the dewy grass, clutching my blanket for dear life. The cold wet blades attack my bare feet as I squash them. It's chilly for a summer morning; the wind seems arctic after hours in my cozy bed. The icy breeze seeps into my body, forcing my skin to erupt with little goose bumps. I scamper down to the pond and watch the carp eat the grass near the edge of the pond bank. Their giant scaly backs protrude from the water in the pale morning light. They look like mini Nessies. I laugh to myself. This is the only time I get to see them today. They hide from the sun because it will dry out their backs. I warily avoid the nasty brier patch on the way to my favorite cedar tree. I flop down on my blanket as the first rays of light explode through the trees on the opposite bank. I feel like I'm walking up over a hill to see the light of heaven purge my body. The crickets complete their night of singing while the birds start theirs. Slowly the sun creeps over the tips of the trees and beats down on the calm water below. The surface of the water catches fire with the purest light of the day. Sadly, it's over. The most beautiful scene I've ever witnessed burns into my memory: the sunrise.

Like every kid with a great childhood, I believe where I was born is the most magical place in the world. The sunrise is magical there, but some events are even better when the sun goes down. I wake to the sound of my dad's voice. I'm too exhausted for this, but before I can get back into a deep sleep he's at it again. "Mary, if you don't get up now they'll all be gone!" my dad yells. I groan reluctantly as I sit up and get dressed. The full moon peeks through the window like a child cautiously seeing if everything's all right. I dash into the living room and grab the huge plastic jar and a flashlight. I breeze out the door towards the cornfield, my shoes slapping against the cold hard ground. I set the jar down a few feet from the first corn stalk. The dazzling moon lights my path as I sneak into the rows of corn. Their blades envelop me like welcoming arms. I feel like they've been waiting an eternity for me to come to them. I hear it then, close to my right. I creep up, flashlight in hand, ready to use like a deadly weapon. I'm a predator stalking my next victim. I hear it again, my unsuspecting prey. I calm my beating heart. Easy now girl, you've got all night to catch 'em, I console myself as I smile. I'm near enough now. The flashlight blares on with enough light to blind anything I care to point it at. My other hand snatches out at my prey, fast as lightning. I walk back to the jar, slowly unclench my hand to hear a soft plop. I close the lid and hold it up to the moon, my first catch of the night. But tomorrow will be worse, for it. I'll take it fishing because fish love grasshoppers caught at midnight.

While catching grasshoppers at my dad's is a really good way to get into my primitive instincts, other things happen at midnight, magical things. "Are you ready?" my dad asks. "Yeah, let's go!" I squeak, as I hop from foot to foot. We rush out the door and get into the old green monster. As we pull out of the driveway, I notice the moon's only a sliver, and it's a clear bright night. Perfect, I praise the sky. The truck roars to a halt in the heart of the cattle field. I jump out and lay the blanket down in the truck bed. I can hear the cows munching on the hay as they come check us out. I lay down to notice we're surrounded. Crickets, hundreds of them, call to each other as if to find a lost friend or lover. To me it’s one of those sounds that, without it, the night turns from a comforting friend into a creepy stranger. I look up to the sky. I can see the constellations shining in all their glory. If I was up there, I'd definitely call this heaven, I think as I gaze dreamily up into the night sky. Then the first one appears, so fast that if I'd have blinked I would have missed it. Another one follows. I glimpse a trail of fire behind them when they shoot through the sky. I stare at the heavens all night, not wanting to miss a single one. Then the last shooting star fills the night sky as I drift off into sleep. I wish...

I grew up here on Sugar Hill. It's the most magical place I know. I'm almost grown but the magic never left me. My most treasured memories are of that place even though I'm making new ones now. No place will ever best Sugar Hill, where sweet little girls are grown.