I am utterly terrified of cicadas. 
Like embarassingly, paralyzingly afraid of cicadas.
You remembered how I reacted to seeing them last summer, so you threw your head back and laughed when I confessed my gratitude for the cicadas being underground this year.
Today we didn’t have to worry about them when we parked on gravel and stepped out into grass to walk until our feet ached despite our shoes.
Sweat ran down my back from the early afternoon heat but I would’ve gone on just to keep laughing with you.
I could talk with you until the cicadas sing again (and then some).