Possibility

Is there anything so full of promise as a warm spring evening in May? The sun starts to set. The streetlamps switch on, creating circles of light and life beneath them. The night ahead seems endless and awash in possibilities.

You could end up driving aimlessly, with the windows rolled down and the radio on full blast, driving to the beach with your two best friends, to end up sitting on rocks and watching the waves until dawn.

Or you could sit in front of the warm glow of the television, watching the last few minutes of the Steven King miniseries. Your friends tumble through the front door like puppies anxious for their first trip outside. "Time for the Peanut Barrel!" they cry.

You might sneak out of your house after your parents fall asleep, to meet a boy and drive down to the tennis courts to spend what simulatiously feels like days and minutes solving the world's problems.

A dance might be going on somewhere, where you dance with the guy you've had a crush on all year, before running off with your friends to laugh about it in the bathroom.

You might simply sit on your deck, watching the neighbors drive by, eavesdropping on their conversations, their personal dramas, peeking into their lives.

Or you might end up in an art gallery, listening to music and drinking wine, watching the world pass by outside. The the afternoon glow turns into dusk, then full dark, while the laughter of friends surrounds you.

On a warm evening in May, almost anything is possible.