Moonlight and Corn Tops

It was a moonlit weekend night in June 1981. We had been to a drive-in movie and I’d just taken her home. She lived even farther out in the country than I did, and at that time of night, there was no other cars.

I had just pulled away from the stop sign at the bottom of the hill, letting the old Cougar purr through its dual exhausts. The road curved left then right along a corn field with tops in full bloom.

The scent through the open windows was sweet, green, and just a little bit sour in a way that’s hard to describe. I knew then that it was a special moment and 45 years later, the smell of corn tops teleports me there, with a kind of weight that’s hard to explain but easy to feel.