There are two things you can always count on this time of year where I live: lovebugs, and cotton. They'll always be there, signifying the end of the summer and the beginning of the cool fall weather. I'll be riding in the passenger seat of a friend's truck with my bare feet on the dash, watching the lovebugs splat against the windshield (much to my friend's distress) and looking out periodically at the fields of cotton between my high school and home. It always surprises me that by the time I notice it, it's about a foot high, the stark white bolls already opened and startlingly bright against the reddish-brown background. It's Dixie snow, that's what it is, alright. Only our snow is warm from the sun and soft, but it'll scratch you to pieces if you aren't careful when you handle it.
Other things happen each year, but sometimes not every year, so you can't always count on them. For instance, the huge chicken dinner that a local church puts on every November didn't happen last year because their pastor died. They told me he died peacefully, in his sleep, and he's probably in heaven right now telling God all about the chicken perleu he puts on each year. He was pretty proud of it, but then, he had a right to be. The chicken was delicious, all juicy and seasoned just right.
There's a wedding this year, though. I've known the girl practically my entire life, and I look at her and her fiance and want to cry because they're so cute together. I would've thought she'd have married her Marine ex-boyfriend. He was a sight to look at, let me tell you. She was good friends with his parents, too. Instead, she's with this mousy man whose eyelashes (which are longer than mine) frame the biggest pair of brown eyes I've ever seen. He's a mild mannered person but I guess every relationship needs balance. Her cheeky, sweet, outgoing personality is at odds with his quiet demeanor but they make it work. I know she's going to be happy. They're adorable together. They just fit.
My sister isn't here this year. I remember this time last year we were making so many plans about how we were going to live together in New York, where I'd get my degrees in creative writing and acting and she would be a dancer. She was an amazing dancer. Now she's in some little town in a "facility" and I haven't seen her since last November. I miss her to death. When she went away, a little part of me went with her. Those big dreams about New York and a famous college are gone now, but I've got other dreams, ones that I can fulfill and be happy with. She's gone, and though I hate to say it, I have a chance at a satisfying life. She isn't always around me, reminding me of what could be.
The fair is here again this year, like always. I would go, but it just doesn't feel right anymore. To tell the truth, I have no one to go with. Momma and Daddy are a little insane right now, and my friends are all preoccupied. I've gotta say, I miss the times when the fair was the highlight of my year. I used to love the ferris wheel and the cotton candy. I remember one year when me and this complete stranger got stuck at the top for about two hours 'cause the machine broke down, so we sat throwing cherry bombs at people down below and laughing like crazy at their jumps and starts. I'll pass by the fair at night and see all of the lights and the brightness of the ferris wheel, but I know I won't stop and go to it. I'll just go right on by, because a fair is no fun if there's no one enjoying it with you.
My aunt passed on so I don't think my uncle will be coming down this Christmas. Used to be the only reason I looked forward to that God awful dinner at my grandparents' house. Presently, I'm just dreading it, unless my uncle decides to make an appearance. I doubt he'll drive all the way here, though, when he's technically not even related to us any more. I do miss him. He's probably the best uncle a person could ever have, but we don't talk much anymore.
The old store burned down so there won't be any gatherings there this year, but Homecoming is looking promising. I always love the biting cold as we wait to see how things turn out, and the dance afterwards. A special person will be with me this year, making it all the better. I never thought that I'd fall in love, but I have, and his eyes make it all worth it. His voice makes me smile, his hands make me tremble. He'll be asking me to marry him at the end of this year, before he leaves to finish school. I'll probably say yes. Maybe we'll move away together. Something in my heart, deep inside, maybe even in my soul, tells me that I'll end up back in this place, though. There's a quality about it that draws everybody back even after they've been gone for years and years. I think it's something in the sweet, sweet air at night when you're sitting around a fire, or the way it feels to ride in the back of a truck in the summer, or the sight of the fields when they're ready to be harvested. If you're born here, it always calls you back. I'd be fine dying here.
The inevitability of the cotton and the lovebugs is the only thing I count on any more. If the cotton failed to grow, or if the lovebugs failed to migrate here, my world would be turned upside down. It marks a change in the year. It always makes me sit up and notice what's different and what's the same. This year has had some of the biggest changes that I've ever seen, but I'm okay with them. Things have to change or they become stagnant, simple as that. Life is like the tiny creek beside my house; it's always flowing. Sometimes the bed is smooth and sandy, and other times it's got to make it's way over the rocks. Still, it keeps on flowing.