Summer can be so quiet here in this small town, that the rustling-lapping-chirping-distant mowing sounds fill all the spaces.

The lazy, hot days feel empty of stressful rushing.

We bask at the beach, we stroll through the woods, we weed our gardens and catch up on our reading.

But late in August, as the excited anticipation of cicada choirs consumes the night air, we feel the energy of this place change.

Louder, faster cars can be heard passing late at night, and quiet sidewalks begin to bubble with voices in the dark.

A few days before the fall semester begins, a burst of enthusiasm permeates our village as eager students and their bewildered parents part ways at dormitory entrances.

The air seems lighter, charged with sparks.

Now the scents of grilling hot dogs and pizza delivery waft past my dogs and me as we walk.

Every day, runners and joggers and the thump thump thump of basketballs bear witness to youthful stamina and determination.

Close to bedtime, laughter and music greet my ears as I sip hot tea on my porch; party-goers pass, glowing, so happy to be here. I shiver when, despite the chilly nights, I look upon high heels and bare legs traversing the street.

I remember going away to college: the sweetness of building lasting friendships, the thrill of engagement and debate, the giddy awareness of being surrounded by my peers, the realization that I am responsible for my decisions, the freedom of being away from my childhood home even when I longed to be there.

I recall learning that not everyone can be trusted, but that most people are striving for something they believe is good.

Because I remember these things, I smile to welcome every student whose eye I can catch.

Welcome back.

I’m glad you’re here.

I’m grateful for all you bring to us.

I entrust this crazy world to you when I’m gone.

May you be happy.

May you be safe.

Mary Jane Wagner is a Fredonia resident.