August 1990

Just as the sun starts to fade for the evening, the first headlights start to pull up in the big field at the end of my street. I take a look out my back window and smile. It’s getting close to 8:00, time to get going. Hours of work went into washing and waxing my ragtop for tonight, but I wanted it to look just right. For tonight, I hoped, wouldn’t be just any night. A gentle buzz of nervous excitement was in the air, maybe it was just the noise from people who were already there, maybe it was just me.
As I pull the top down off my jeep, I can hear the laughter coming from the field. Yup, it was time to go party. Kicking on the four by four, I proceed to pull into the field. It’s still a little muddy from the rain last week, but mostly dry. There wasn’t nearly enough to destroy my earlier labors, so I was relieved. By the time I pulled up to a chorus of hellos the sun had already retired for the night, replaced by the orange glow of the harvest moon. It seems like more people showed up tonight than ever, perhaps because we all know that summer will be over soon, and we’re all going our separate ways. Some are off to work, others to colleges in strange places with names foreign to me. Me, I am not really sure where I am going, hell I don’t even know where I have been for the past 4 years.
But there’s no reason to worry about that tonight. Tonight there’s beer to be drank, and women to be loved, and sins to be committed. Tomorrow will come when it does. Wandering from car to car, I hear people talking about their dreams, where they’re going, what they want to do, and who they want in their backseat. I’m sure some of them will get it too.
Going over to the bed of Tommy's pickup, I climb in and crack open a beer. We talk for a while, about the same old shit, and what pretty girl is walking by. We ask each other where we went wrong, and how we screwed up, and how to fix it, but mostly we just tip back a few cold ones. Growing tired of this, I work my way back to my convertible and sit down on the hood, waiting. A few of my friends drop over for a quick chat on their way to someone else, but mostly I am alone. And I am okay with that. The amber glow of my radio, the stars in the sky and some one timer singing a song about love that’s gone wrong is my entire world right now. I grab another beer and feel the beginnings of intoxication set in, but that’s fine. I am not going anywhere until the last headlights have left to their own private pilgrimage. Leaning back on my windshield I look up at the sky and look up at the stars. The sky is so clear; it looks like I could see a billion stars tonight. The warm breeze blows through my hair, and another song plays on the radio. Amanda comes over to me and gives me companionship for a while.
“Counting stars again?” she asks, “ You always were a dreamer.”
With a gentle kiss on the cheek, she says goodbye, off to pursue her own dreams. And I am alone again. Alone with just the stars, the radio and my thoughts. And that is OK with me.