"first time's a one time feeling and i never wanted nothing more" -Kenny Chesney

As I stepped into the chilling air late on a Thursday night, February 22 to be exact, Burton walked me to the car, hand in hand for the first time. Awkwardly standing a few feet apart, our bodies shivered in the cold. With the moon shining as our only light, all we could see was our breath in the chilly air. Looking up at the stars I noticed Orien’s belt. Stepping toward me and gently slipping his hand around my waste, finding a reason to be close, he pointed up and said: “Look, there is his sword and those four stars are his body, and if you look just over there you can see the Big Dipper.” As a smile stretched across my face, I replied, “I see.” After he had shown me the stars, Burton turned stepped in front of me so that we faced each other once again, but this time we didn’t stand a few feet apart. We stood close with his hands clasped behind my back. As our teeth chattered, we could hear the rumbling of the bushes as the cats roamed through the yard. Neither of us really knew what to say as we stumbled over words making small talk as our night came to a close. Finally, it time had arrived—the dreaded good-bye. His gray sweatshirt hood framed his face, and Burton’s crystal blue eyes searched my face. What was he thinking? My mind raced. What was about to happen? Does he want to kiss me? Or Does he just want a friendly good-bye hug? Is this….my thought were interrupted by his cold hand on my left cheek and his right hand pulling my waist toward him. Before I could think any further, our lips met and I experienced one of the sweetest, most innocent kisses of my life. I remember the tingle on my lips caused by the lingering peppermint he ate just before we walked outside, the faint smell of his cologne just enough to make me melt, and the soft touch of his hand on my cheek. As our kiss ended, a new series of questions began racing through my mind. Did that just happen? Does he really like me? Would this relationship last? Would he be different than the guys I had dated in the past? Once again, my thoughts were interrupted. Placing both hands on my cheeks, Burton smiled and said: “Goodnight Sunshine. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Smiling back I said “Absolutely.” He kissed me once more on the forehead as I got into my car, closed the door and walked inside as I began backing out of his driveway.

Memoir- "A Princess Among Cows"

It is a beautiful afternoon in early March. I am standing at the edge of my family cemetery confronted with a scene I am not prepared to cope with. As warm tears streak down my cold cheeks I see the fence is falling on one side, weeds are tall and green amongst the tomb stones, and there are no beautiful flowers in sight. This is my first visit to my grandfather’s grave since he died two weeks before Christmas in 1992, and I am overcome with feelings of anger and sadness. I cannot believe that a place filled with such rich memories looks as though it has been deserted. Despite my swirling emotions, I am forced to think back to my childhood and remember how much I admired my grandfather and the good times we had on the farm.

For as long as I could remember, I had gone to Saluda almost every weekend to stay with my grandparents, Pa and Memommie. I loved my both of my grandparents, but I was definitely closer to my grandfather. Pa was a short, stout man. He had the most beautiful, blue eyes set off by his black, thick framed glasses. A white or blue, short sleeved, button up shirt with khaki pants was the outfit he wore on most weekends with a pack of Vantage cigarettes in his shirt pocket. Topping off his stout figure was thin, short, snowy white hair. He was a quiet man, but as I grew older I learned that he was a wise man full of tokens of priceless advice. As a child, he was my hero. I never saw him lose his temper, and he had an amazing work ethic. He didn’t believe in doing any task half way. My mother said that he would always tell her, “Anything worth doing is worth doing right.” He showed me through words, as well as examples, what kind of person I hope to be someday.

Pa and Memommie live in the country of Saluda, SC on dairy farm. They had all kinds of cows and one white bull we called “Tom T,” who was my favorite. I loved the view from the kitchen table. Looking out the huge bay window, I could see the long, gravel driveway lined with magnificent oak trees and the sturdy wooden fence that encircled the yard and the vast pastures stretched out for miles. Of all my fond memories of my grandfather and the farm, my favorite times were those when I helped him feed the cows.

That Saturday I was in the bedroom at Pa and Memommie’s farm. Being the biggest six-year-old priss-pot in Saluda County, the first thing I wanted to do after breakfast was pick out my clothes for the day. As I walked to the large closet that smelled of fresh, crisp laundry, I decided to wear my favorite dress to feed the cows that morning. My favorite dress was pink, not ballerina pink, but a little closer to fuchsia. It was short sleeved and knee length, but the best part about this dress was the lace and frills. It had mounds of frills under the skirts, lace on the sleeves and collar, and a floppy lace bow that tied around my waist and hung down my back. Every time I put that dress on I felt like a princess. Memommie came to the door of the bedroom and between bursts of laughter asked, “Lord in Heaven, what are you wearing that for? You know ya’ll are going to feed the cows.” I placed my hands on my hips and saucily replied, “I love this dress, and I want to look nice to go feed the cows. Is that ok?” Of course Memommie said it was fine. Looking at me with a smile, she paused for a second and said, “Well if you’re gonna look like a movie star, then we might as well go all the way.” She took my hand and let me to the back bedroom, opened the closet and said, ““Go ahead. Pick one.” I couldn’t believe my eyes. In front of me hung three majestic fur coats; they were the most beautiful things I had ever seen. I chose the coat in the middle that was black and sleeveless. Memommie gently lifted the coat from its hanger and helped me put it on. Of course the coat was way too big; it swallowed my petite body and hung down to my knees.

With my outfit complete, I was ready to help my grandfather feed the cows. As I stepped out onto the front porch, my grandfather looked up, and I saw a smile stretch across his face.

With a small chuckle in his voice he said, “Come on Lil’ Buddy. You know the drill.”

As he carefully let down the tailgate of his powder blue Ford pick-up, I walked down the steps and as I grabbed my grandfather’s hand he helped me into the back of the truck. I remember how his hands felt like aged leather worn from years of work on the farm. Usually when I helped Pa feed the cows I sat on the tire well in the back of the truck, but not today. This time I sat on the rim right up next to the back window. As we got ready to leave, we looked toward the front porch to find Memommie smiling and waving, waiting for us to head into the pasture.

Once I was situated, Pa called out, “Hold on tight; here we go.”

Our first stop was one of the barns. Pa got out of the truck and heaved some loose hay into the bed of the truck, but he was always careful not to put too much so I wouldn’t get itchy. After he was finished, he placed his pitchfork in the back of the truck and we were off to the pastures. As we came to each gigantic, circular bale of hay in the pasture, Pa got out of the truck, grabbed his pitchfork from the back of the truck, and spread some of the hay around each of the large bales. His motions were sharp and precise. We didn’t talk much on our rides through the pastures while we fed the cows, but when it was time to feed “Tom T” Pa got out, lowered the tailgate, helped me out of the truck, and let me help him feel the dirty, white bull. “Alright ‘Tom T’ is waiting,” he said, and I helped my grandfather spread the hay. Of course after a minute or two I was tired, so I ran my hand along ‘Tom T’s’ hot body and asked, “How’s it going old buddy?” When Pa was finished spreading the hay for “Tom T,” we hopped back in the truck as I heard my grandfather’s gentle voice remind me it was time for a snack.

As our morning adventure came to an end, we pulled into the driveway to find Memommie sitting on the porch, as always, finishing her coffee. After we reached the cool kitchen, we sat down at the big, wooden table, where Memommie always had each of us three saltine sandwiches—two saltine crackers with peanut butter in the middle. In my place was a half cup of coffee with more sugar and milk than coffee, and in Pa’s place was a full mug of steaming, black coffee. As I sat there eating my snack and sipping my coffee I felt like nothing could ever go wrong in life.