It seems like just yesterday …
That the cicada brood emerged from the ground.
Or rather, make that two yesterday’s ago.
The last one I missed, back in 2004.
But rewind the clock another seventeen …
And I was still in high school: It was the summer of 1987.
I feel like a cicada in a way …
Leaving me to wonder, if any of the cicadas feel me?
Where does the similarity lie?
The both of us have been away for quite some time. But I must say, there is no place quite like home, no matter how long you haven’t been there. Why is that case? All I know is that when I listen to the cicada sing, you don’t hear a hint that they don’t belong. They own the forest, and dominate the airwaves, to the point that trying to talk above them is like being at a roaring rapid of a creek that never stops night or day.
It’s good to be back in the land I was born.
I was too young to remember the first 17-year brood of my life time, and not here on the third, but the summer of the second to this day still resonates like it was just yesterday.
