As a seven year old, in the late of night
I woke up and went downstairs
To escape the August heat in a house with no central AC
Between the shadows
Beams from the streetlights above lit a path to our couch
A familiar smell made me grin a toothless smile
A faint outline would breathe, make a crackling sound, and an intermittent red light would flash then fade
I whispered into the void to share my dreams, ideas, jokes, and every single thought that popped into my head - not asking a single question
My dad smoking a cigarette in the dark listened patiently for nearly twenty minutes to every word of my stream of conscience monologue, chuckled then replied, ‘Go to bed!’