Paperwork: It was the perfect time of day, and then this happened …

Ever have one of those moments, when something hits the pause button?

It was about 8:45 p.m. I was by the front window ready to close the shades for the night. But instead, I froze. Well, time seemed to pause.

Nothing unusual was happening. The evening temperature still hovered in the low 80s. A warm summer night. The neighborhood was quiet and it would be a night without storms. But what made me pause was the serenity and the whole scene outside. The stage was set. For me.

It felt like the perfect time of day. That subtle creep of dusk that changes the mood. I could see everything around clearly yet the shadows were deepening. And inviting. Soon they would own the night.

Yes, those shadows were inviting to me. Which is why the whole moment was surreal. I was suddenly a teenager again and each of those shadowy pockets were perfect hiding places. It was the summer of ’63, ’64 or ’65 and I was pulled back into the old neighborhood.

I wasn’t alone. There was a group of us who turned the surrounding backyards into our playground. The game for the evening was our version of hide-and-seek that we called flashlight tag. The searcher had the only flashlight. Our mission was to dodge the light beam and reach home base safely.

So there was I was, standing in my living room, getting sucked back into the summer nights when I was young.

I remembered a single moment of glory and adventure. The flashlight was swinging slowly my way. My adrenaline surged and I dove to safety, head first over a low hedge row into a somersault. It was an Olympic tumble or so I thought. I was nervous about the lurking light but also kept an eye on the neighbor’s house, hoping he didn’t see me as a hedge-smashing trespasser. I had no choice. I was facing true danger, saved only by my agility and dexterity. Oh yes, I was proud of myself.

Funny ... the little things we remember so clearly.

I stood at my window and remembered what summers and warm nights were all about. How we loved them. And how those days are gone. And so – BAM – I was back to reality. My living room. The couch. The TV. My nightly routine.

Taking one last look before pulling the shade down I saw the small blink of a light in the yard. And then another. Lightning bugs. Ahhh... more memories, I thought, recalling another reason we ventured into the night when we were young.

Chasing down those little lights to pop into a glass jar. We carefully prepared the lid by pounding a nail into it to make air holes. The jar was full of grass and it eventually became a throbbing, glowing lantern in the bedroom. (I’m not sure how that experiment ended.)

That was a long time ago. Also long ago, although it seems but a moment, our sons would come in from the summer night, leaving their shoes piled at the door. They and a pack of friends that had been hiding behind hedges and bushes and trees, running through surrounding yards.

Maybe summer nights belong to the young. I certainly have no desire now to dive over a hedge. But the stretching shadows of evening were still inviting. It was a nice reminder of what summer nights used to be. Running through the night from mystery and playful danger.

You know ... one of these nights maybe I’ll take a little walk. See what the neighborhood looks like without the bright light of day. I might even make a note of all the perfect spots to hide.

Yeah, just me walking through my memories ... on a warm summer night.

• Lonny Cain, retired managing editor of The Times in Ottawa, also was a reporter for The Herald-News in Joliet in the 1970s. His Paperwork email is lonnyjcain@gmail.com. Or mail The Times, 110 W. Jefferson St., Ottawa, IL 61350.