For a relatively small town, Wilton can create quite the ruckus. From the blue-and-white-covered student section screaming out “Roll Tribe” at each football game to the iconic Memorial Day parade featuring a cheering crowd and every Wilton organization imaginable, the tiny but mighty population bands together and makes a lot of noise. But even on the liveliest of days, the hours pass by and the town starts to shut down.
Each night, as the sky dims, Route 7 transforms from a traffic-clogged nightmare to just another barren street, illuminated only by the headlights of an occasional driver passing through. The football field’s blinding lights shut off and town center’s establishments close, one by one. Each home slowly goes dark until the cicadas and crickets have lulled us all to sleep. As the night turns completely still, each townsperson slows down and reflects on his or her day in the quiet of the night.