銆�銆�And then, I`m back there at her house in the summer heat of my childhood.
I move my pillow to the foot of Grandma`s bed and angle my face towards the open window. I flip the pillow, hunting for the cooler side.
銆�銆�Grandma sees me thrashing. "If you`ll just watch for the breeze," she says, "you`ll cool off and fall asleep.?She cranks up the Venetian blinds. I stare at the filmy white curtain, willing it to flutter.
銆�銆�Lying still, waiting, I suddenly notice the life outside the window. The bug chorus shouts, "Ajooga! Ajooga!?Neighbours, sitting on their verandas until late, speak in hazy words with sanded edges that soothe me.
銆�銆�"Keep watching for the breeze," Grandma says softly, and I`m h-huh?in reply. Bugs ping the screen. Three blocks away a train rumbles by.
銆�銆�I catch the scent of fresh grass clippings. Then I hear something I can`t decode - perhaps a tree branch raking the shingles on the shop roof next door.
銆�銆�Sleepy-eyed now, I focus on the curtain. It flutters...
銆�銆�"Mum, did you hear that?"my seven-year-old blurts. "I think it was an owl family.?"
銆�銆�Probably," I tell him.Just keep listening...?
銆�銆�Without the droning air conditioner, the house is oddly peaceful, and the unfiltered night noises seem close enough to touch.
銆�銆�I hope I`m awake tonight when the first breeze sneaks in.