Sunday, February 13, 2011

" 'Til Summer Comes Around."

 Click here for Keith Urban's "Til Summer Comes Around"

From the time I was young, I absolutely adored going to the Indiana County Fair. It was the once-a-year event that all within a twenty-five mile radius couldn't miss. Although, there were quite a few years that my aging, tired father didn't possess the energy to get up and take us. Anytime that he did, I was in heaven.

The only attraction that caught my father's attention was the Demolition Derby, also known as the Demos. The sound of car's squealing tire, bodies crashing and cracking upon impact, and thousands of people screaming in their seats was undoubtedly a fantastic rush. However, that wasn't the reason I wanted to go to the fair in that latter part of each hot and sticky, sweltering August.

Hindered by motion sickness since I was about twelve, I didn't go for the fast, thrashing, turbulent ways of some of the county's thrill rides. I never had much money, so nine times out of ten, I didn't even bother eating any of the fair's fattening, sometimes sugary yet greasily delicious food products. The animals that lingered in the large, spacious barns didn't particularly interest me much, merely because I hated going into places alone. Hell, I didn't even go for the Bumper Cars, one of two rides I could possibly stomach.

I wanted to go to the fair each year simply because of the atmosphere: that lively, free-spirited, giggly, joyous feeling that hits you square in the gut and lifts you up into the sweat-filled summer sky. Most importantly, I went because I had always wanted to walk around the fair, hand in hand with the love of my life (that I hadn't even met yet.)

I dreamed that he and I would feed each other cotton candy, watch the children tumble through the jungle gyms, and fall even deeper in love amid the sparkling, colored lights that appeared as the humid sky softly folded into dusk. He would take one look upward, as we passed the ever-popular Ferris Wheel. With a grin, he would lead me by the hand through the line and into that rickety, slippery seat a shade of candy-apple red.

As the seat spun upward, we would look down at the glimmering scenes below, groups of people frolicking in joy, the rainbow topped merry go round spinning at a slow and steady pace. I would rest my head upon his shoulder, as my dizzy, spinning head relaxed itself, and his grip on my hand would tighten as his thumb stroked my palm.

Once we docked at the very top, as passengers below began loading off, the seat would gently sway in the warm, breezy wind. The view would be so breathtakingly beautiful, that I couldn't help but glance over at him; that is when he would run his fingers through my hair, and by the neck, he would guide me to his lips and plant upon me my first Ferris Wheel kiss.

This image can be found at: http://travel.nationalgeographic.com/city-guides/chicago-green-photos-traveler/#/08-chicago-ferris-wheel-couple_23393_600x450.jpg

Needless to say, I have yet to experience an event such as this. Clique enough, each and every time I hear "Til Summer Comes Around" by Keith Urban, I am reminded of how desperately I want that Ferris Wheel kiss. To my surprise, just a week ago, my fiancé Joshua was rambling in excitement like usual about the fact that this summer I will finally be out in Madison, Indiana for good. However, to my surprise, as I was half-way listening to the unvaried babbling, as a side bar thought he uttered, "I can't wait to take you to the Jefferson County fair."

Instantaneously, my ears perked up and I felt a twinge of irony jerk within my stomach. The widest possibly smile settled itself upon my face, as my mind took me back to my adolescent dreams of country fair romance. I thought to myself, "I'm finally gonna get my Ferris Wheel kiss, I just have to wait 'til summer comes around."

1 comment:

  1. What a chic blog, Amber Catherine. I like the addition of pictures. Of course, I always like the writing.

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