The air was thick with lovebugs as I drove along the turnpike. Each year, about this time, the lovebug phenomenon occurs. My windshield was practically covered with splattered lovebugs, which were pelting the cars like driving rain.

I pulled into a gas station to clean off the window. As I was scraping, I heard a cell phone ring. A loud voice, from over by the next tank, called out, “Can you get it?! It’s probably one of the kids!” She was outside her car, pumping gas, but she did not want to miss that call that might have been from her kids.

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