At first she thought it was litter on the sides of the road.

Consistently inconsistent, it flashed white on the red clay shoulders of the two lane country road.

Rounding a curve, she saw rows and rows of muddy brown, dried out crops adorned with snowy white caps.

It was cotton, not litter.

The trucks that transported the crops from fields to processing undoubtedly sent stray tufts of cotton flying, landing on the roadsides like discarded gum wrappers.

The sky was severe clear – blue as far as the eye could see, bringing the pure white of the cotton into brighter relief.

No other cars were on the road. Half of the fields she passed in a blur were already plowed – probably peanuts, pulled and harvested in time for the festival week celebrations.

That’s not where she was headed.

A cheap hotel. A night of work. Next day, returning down the same country road.

In the quiet, she took in the bright days.

Soon enough she would return to her life.

The expectations. The unmet hopes. The air heavy with disappointment.

For now, she savored the peace.