There’s something about people-watching at a state fair in the south. A southern state fair has cowboy boots, short shorts, a myriad of accents, at least one mechanical bull, Baptists who want you to turn over your life to Jesus right here and now, yes, at the State fair, why not at the State fair?, fried Milky Ways, fried Twinkies, fried Snickers, fried Oreos, I could go on…

There’s something about a drive-in movie, how organic and relaxed it feels to be entertained by an outside screen from a blanket-filled, pillow-adorned back of a minivan. Something about how when you walk inside the dilapidated snack bar shack in the middle of the lot, a mom and her son stop playing cards to hand you a very reasonably priced bag of popcorn, smiling and making conversation as they make change. I will never again understand why people go to over-priced, glitzy, freezing cold multiplexes, or why drive-in’s are slowly disappearing. Comfortable, inexpensive, romantic, convenient… I was definitely born in the wrong era.

There’s something about the way the elderly folks (it just doesn’t feel right to say “old” because, you know, they’re just so sprightly) at the Feed & Seed dance to bluegrass on a Saturday night. The way you can just tell how some of the women spent the whole afternoon getting dolled up for the dancing, for their big weekend night out. Something about how the men always walk behind the ladies and let them go first, the man’s hand on the small of the woman’s back and her perfume wafting behind them both. Something about the clickety-clack of the dancing shoes on the wood floor, the regulars who can’t imagine a Saturday night not here dancing, the sounds of late summer and southern drawls filling the 150-year-old building in this small town in North Cackalacky.

 

There’s something about a September weekend in the Great Smoky Mountains, seeing friends from college gather at a beautiful barn for a lovely wedding.

Familiar faces, fresh conversation, mason jars and the yummiest cupcakes…

 

 

…something about celebrating love and life’s milestones with

mashed potatoes

and apple butter,

solemn vows

and blowing bubbles

and so much dancing.

There’s something about enjoying a pumpkin ale on a crisp fall day, sitting in the sun on the grounds of a beautiful, historic estate. Something about the geese taking flight over the lake as the sun starts to go down, the goat cheese on the fresh bread, the bright red tomatoes and the taste of autumn in your mouth. Something about rolling around in the grass laughing with your best friend,

something about the wind on your clasped hands as you ride behind him later on his motorcycle. Holding on to him not necessarily for safety – you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t feel safe – but because you just so want to be here, your arms wrapped around something solid. There’s something about zipping around town and it zipping around you, without barriers of metal, glass, or convenience between you and that autumn air. Something about realizing just how intimate jetting from point A to point B can be, something about the way your guy turns his helmet-covered head and says above the wind, “How ya doing back there, baby?”

Something about being back in a quirky town you’ve come to love for the last time in a while, I guess.

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3 thoughts on “something about it all.

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