I see nothing in space as promising as the view from a ferris wheel.

E.B. White

Small Town Fair

Nothing can throw you back to your childhood faster then a small town fair and running into people you haven’t seen since elementary school. Growing up was awkward at the best of times. Throw in spiral perms, braces, acne, with old-lady style glasses and it might just be torture to relive.  But add in cotton candy, fresh squeezed lemonade, a loud and ruckus midway with an outdoor concert and suddenly I’m recalling the innocent days of my summer youth, the ripple of shame slowly fading away…

I remember heading out to the fair with my girlfriends, our parents driving us to town, down the the fifteen miles of dusty gravel roads. The aroma of mini donuts and kettle corn greeting us as we hastily escaped the clutches of our parents. The sounds of the local band filtering through the evening air as we looked for our first crush, hoping he’d ask us to ride the ferris wheel, yet at the same time petrified at the prospect of actually talking to a boy. Our stomaches aching from to much sugary cotton candy, our allowance blown on trying to win the giant stuffed panda.

Screams of laughter rising above the sound of the midway rides, I realized a few weeks ago that not a lot has changed. I might be a couple years older (oh who am I kidding, a couple decades older) and a few crushes wiser (this time holding hands with my husband instead of giggling with a cluster of girls when a cute boy glances our way) but a small town fair still brings out the kid in me.

And I’m still trying to win that giant stuffed panda…


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