Strange Results – The Connecticut Primary

I hate waiting for political results. Nothing is worse than watching news anchors, particularly local news anchors, fill time while they wait for the polls to close. With the national media looking at Connecticut, I knew I was in for a long night. I’ve been trying to work on my novel, and stay away from the television. There had to be a better way.

Before my wife came home, I filled the fire pit up with some wood, lit the bug away torches, grabbed a few beers, a cigar and a portable radio and headed to the back yard. As the fire lapped up under the pine and kindling, the result came in on NPR. With the torches and the fire coming up, it felt primal and simple. The crackle and the pop on the radio was confused with the splitting wood in the fire. The bats came out three, four, and five, catching bugs and dancing in the fading light. My wife came home and joined me and I stoked the fire. I listened to reactions, and early returns, but I was also waiting for the best part of my night. By nine, when everyone was speculating on early returns, the full moon showed beams of light through the trees.

I found it odd that the bats would swoop in and try to catch the sparks of the fire, like wicked fireflies. It was uneasy to watch them pull in close and then spin away, realizing that what spiraled up like a bug, was burning hot. The moon lit the lawn like a negative to the sun and the world seemed significant.

With the smoke in our clothes and the elections still coming in, we slid through the grass with the drew on our feet and the fire mere embers of a night of tempered politics and lasting moon beams still glistening on the skin. Politics and voting is a construct of civilization, but the bats will always sense the hot embers before they catch one. And the silver moon light is like medicine for the soul.