On the way home from the Bethlehem Fair on Saturday--not long after the deluge; after the lightening that ripped open the sky, turned it purple, and electrified the grass; after the screams of teenagers more frightened than thrilled by the adventure; after the flashing lights of the rides and games; after the animals of every shape and size; and after two doses of fried dough sitting heavy deep inside all of us--the crickets chirped.

And chirped and chirped and chirped. The car was quiet but for the sound of these wide-awake bugs way and away outside in the fields.

"They make a lot of noise," my daughter said. "Sometimes they even keep me awake at night."

Her best friend replied: "You have crickets, but some people have to listen to cars all night. Crickets are better."

"I guess you're right," my daughter said and drifted off to sleep, leaning on her dearest there in the backseat.

Life can be perfect, even when you're soaking wet and your feet stink.