Given the amount of daylight hours we enjoy, it seems ridiculous that I would run out of time and have to bounce on the trampoline after dark. But that’s exactly what’s happening. Long days and late dinners mean I’m jumping at 9:30 p.m.

Truth be told, I’m growing to like this hour. The night is alive with katydids and crickets and frog sounds. Bats swoop from tree to tree. The to-do list that formulates itself automatically when I can see what needs to be done is mercifully out of mind in the darkness.

Instead, my eyes are drawn to the house, to the lamp light glowing gold, to the kitchen window that winks and blinks as the refrigerator door is open and closed, to the people moving in and out of view.

No longer in it, I now can see it whole and entire — my sanctuary and my nemesis.

I know it’s late. I know I should go in. But I thumb through my playlists, find one more song — and keep bouncing.