I love...

I love the way it smells after a summer afternoon rain, how the thirsty ground releases a musty steam that settles in the air just above the road and dances on the horizon. I love the way the air feels, thick and warm, blowing through the open windows of my car and whipping through my hair around as it melds with the ice cold air blasting from the air conditioning vents. I love the sound of it, roaring through the car and doing its best to compete with the radio and the laughter of my friends.

I love the clink of our empty Yoo-hoo bottles rolling together on the floor boards, the fact that they are still made of glass instead of plastic. I love the country music coming through the speakers, and the way my friends sing along just slightly off key.

I love the crunch of gravel under my tires as I pull off the blacktop, the oranges and pinks of the late afternoon sun peeking over the horizon and casting shadows through the trees. I love the winding road, the sudden twists and turns that I could drive in my sleep, but that somehow still seem to make my stomach lurch.

I love the rusty red gate that Mr. Williams leaves unlocked just for us, the sight of pickup trucks and cars parked haphazardly in the field, the smell of the thick smoke rising from the bonfire the boys are building by the lake.  I love the sound of ice sloshing in the cooler, the crackle and hiss of opening cans, and that first cold, forbidden sip of Natural Light that was smuggled over the state line by somebody’s older brother or cousin.

I love the boy sitting beside me, how he smells like wintergreen Skoal and fresh cut grass and Old Spice, how his hair curls under the bill of his faded Alabama cap. I love the way he keeps his arm draped possessively around my shoulders, the way he grins at me as he points out the lightening bugs dancing around the reeds by the lake, the way his lips brush against my ear when he whispers secrets to me when nobody is looking.