4th of July Nostalgia

I miss Cherry Days.

I miss the dorky parade. I miss seeing my nephew, David, ride his unicycle down Washington Blvd in his Raggedy Ann costume. I miss seeing LouAnn, in her Cherry Days t-shirt, without fail, every year. I can almost, now, taste the tootsie rolls picked up off the sidewalk, having been flung by Gordon riding in the big fire truck.

I miss our North Ogden Carnival at the park. The kiddie rides. The burnt hamburgers. The Shupes selling Creamies. I can't even tell you how much I miss the home-town talent shows. I can almost hear Stephanie yodeling from here. The passage of years is trying to silence that song, but I hear it still. And I smile.

I miss the Pleasant View fireworks. I've seen bigger. I've seen flashier. None instill that same sense of allegiance to home and country as those displays at good old Weber High. Some years so hot the air crackled; others with umbrellas; one wearing parkas. Every one of them a bright burst of light in my heart.

Here in Saint George many of the same events take place. Somebody selling Creamies at the carnival. The kiddie train chugging around the park. The Dixie Sunbowl, peopled with grandma's and teenagers and children with bright eyes and flushed cheeks painted with flags and stars. Sweet, sticky snowcone faces, drinking in the moment. The talent competition. I watch Mikalene sing, yodel in fact, and it almost, almost, carries me back again.

I look at my husband, relaxed, listening to the music. I am so happy to be here with him this night. To know that in him I have found the other half of me. Together we are making a life of joy here in Saint George. But I miss Cherry Days.