The stage was almost ready. Pajama-wearing, blanket-bearing guests were beginning to arrive in vans and SUVs but it just as well could have been limos because that’s how important these guests were. That’s how important this night was.
The hosts ran screaming across the lawn toward each vehicle as it emptied, arms extended, hug-ready. The family pup, tethered in the center of the front yard, frantically barked his greeting, adding to the overall excitement in the air. There was talk of who would be in which class next year, then squeals of delight when good friends discovered they wouldn’t be split up. For many of these guests, this had been the last day of second grade and the first night of summer freedom. It was time to celebrate.
They were ushered to the back yard where the festivities would take place. There, in front of the swing set, stood a sixteen-foot blow-up screen. With a few lights added, it could have mimicked the final scenes of “Close Encounters of the Third Kind.” It was surreal. The guests were to be treated to a viewing of “Tangled,” a Disney flick, but that was just part of the fun. As they spread their blankets on the ground, waiting for darkness to fall, they got to choose tasty movie snacks like chocolate bars and swedish fish. Many saved themselves for the quintessential movie delicacy - popcorn - which was still percolating.
Just before the movie started, one of the mothers handed out glow-stick bracelets. The darker it grew, the more like fireflies the guests appeared, especially when they got up and danced to the musical numbers. When the real fireflies showed up, the movie became secondary as their human counterparts chased them.
About three-quarters of the way through the movie, all went dark. The screen began to collapse. The revelers were briefly confused. An announcement was made that the popcorn machine had tripped the circuit but that the movie would continue shortly. Taking advantage of the break in the action, the glowing bracelets began dispersing, exploring other parts of the yard. A second announcement was made. “All children must remain in the back yard.” That didn’t spoil their free spirits. They heeded the warning and danced and played until the movie resumed. This grammar school version of Woodstock, sans Jimi Hendrix and the drugs, continued without missing a beat.
The threat of rain had hovered all night. Luckily, it held off to the very end. Even Mother Nature was on their side. So as the screen went blank and the tired guests in their damp pajamas and dimming glow bracelets walked off to their rides, giving hugs, saying thank you, making arrangements for future play dates, all agreed this was the best way ever to start the summer. The night had truly been magical.
