How long can we go without the air conditioning? I'd like to stretch it out as long as possible, but we can only take so much heat, you know? We now have both of them here, still in their boxes, our windows open to the breeze. A box fan and several open windows in the living room provide the perfect cross breeze; the kitchen has its ceiling fan and now our bedroom has a new, $50, Home Depot, self-installed (thanks Uncle!) Hampton Bay unit that makes nights so much more comfortable.

Tonight is bearable, unlike earlier this evening. Unpacking from the weekend, breaking out the fan and cleaning it, making the bed -- I worked up a sweat. Now, I sit simply enjoying the night. Part of me wants to take a walk. It's been a long time since I've walked at night, spent any time outdoors in the dark. It used to happen regularly. In high school, we might go down to the beach. We'd sit out on patios, jump around on Lisa's trampoline. At times, I'd walk the short distance home from Joe's house through the quiet main street of our town, past the playground at the elementary school. On those occasions when we'd wander through the park, usually to Brian's house, with its backyard adjacent to one of the baseball fields, we might get sidetracked and linger. We'd run around in the dark, unable to see where we were going (other than the lights in the distance) or how close we were to others. Then the cops would drive through and shine the spotlight on us and use the loudspeaker to tell us to go home. One night, I walked home alone from Joe's craning my neck up at the stars the whole way, except for crossing streets or when the few cars I encountered passed by -- in case they turned into a driveway as I approached.

My best nighttime walks came in college, in the spring or fall; definitely in the summer. One such walk inspired one of my favorite entries. The campus was a town in itself, but at night -- weeknights -- it quieted down. Because of our work on the newspaper, I came to know it at all hours. The best nights were those I could leave the paper after midnight and still have enough energy to take a detour on my way back to the dorm, to walk by the Grotto or retrace the route from the lakes back to Grace Hall along the less-traveled sidewalks behind the Main Building -- past Lewis and St. Edwards, Zahm and Stanford, Farley and the dining hall. The best walk was beneath the trees of God Quad, then emerging onto the wide-open South Quad. In winter, it was like stepping onto the tundra. In nicer seasons, the trees would obscure the moon on a near-full night and the walk along the open South Quad would be illuminated by the giant spotlight above.

Any time I spend walking outside now is in New York, with the lights of the city erasing the darkness in some cases. The concrete beneath my feet is not nearly as soothing as the grass, and the surroundings nowhere near as familiar or inviting as those I've known. I suppose I could step outside now and wind my way along the quiet streets of my neighborhood, but I just don't think it would live up to my hopes and my needs.

For now, I'm happy to walk along in my mind.