The other night after the workday had ended, and during those precious turquoise sky moments when the sun seems to rest in a hammock just below the horizon, I decided to spend some time outside.When I finally came in, I noticed something I hadn’t seen in a few months. It was surprising, because I thought I’d seen the last of them. They spent the better part of May and most of the following month clumsily running into the patio overhead, screens and porch lights. They’d occasionally find my forehead as I’d take the trash barrels out to the curb one evening and back in the next, their lazy, drowsy flight line as exact as a weatherman’s forecast. I thought they were long gone until next summer, but there he was — nestled in the stuccoed corner of the house by the back door: a June bug. Motionless, possibly lonely, but bold all the same to be gracing the evening with its presence. The next morning, he was gone. But it made me think about all those times when we firmly say never, when we’re supposedly completely done with someone and ready to move on or simply when we think we’ve missed an opportunity…that something or someone generally comes back around again in some fashion, and we have a chance to seize the moment, make amends or just understand that never is a strong word that is often never accurate. Tonight I am thankful for June bug’s brief presence, its urging to never say never and for the reminder that just when you think the book is closed, a page inevitably comes floating back into the picture.