In my most distinct memory of us, we were riding bikes side-by-side down a country road. Your long, wavy hair was blowing in the wind behind you and the afternoon sun lit up the smile on your face. The beautiful country landscape surrounding us didnโt compare to you. At that moment, you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and I was wholeheartedly in love with you.ย
Our relationship was the classic tale of โopposites attractโ; our differences intrigued me. While you grew up in the peaceful countryside, I spent my whole life in the metropolitan area of Detroit. Urban hustle was all I knewโ until I met you.
You talked about your home like it was a person. How it brought you calming comfort, smelled a certain way, and left an impact on you that no one else could have, but what you spoke about most was the sheer beauty of the place you grew up. How the pond looked like diamonds when the summer sun hit it just right, that the sunsets sometimes looked like forest fires against the tree line, that the Milky Way showed itself often, and how dragonflies were the worldโs friendliest creatures. Your poetic-like descriptions painted a fairytale image in my mind. I desperately wanted to experience this place you held so close to your heart (I was so determined to understand everything about you back then).
You invited me home for the first time right as the trees lost their green; you said I was lucky to see it during this time of year. Leaving our student duties and shared college town behind, we ventured off into the โreal worldโ for the first time together.
I wondered if this would change anything between us.
To get to your rural home we drove past forests and fields for hours, but the ride was easy with you. We never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Our chemistry was clear from the moment we met.
Eventually, we turned onto a country road labeled by the single letter โLโโ you said they didnโt bother naming the roads out there. Branches of mature trees reached out over the road creating a tunnel of color to welcome you home.
Distracted by the beauty of this place, I would have easily driven by your drive if you hadnโt warned me to slow down. A tiny mailbox was the only sign that a house existed beyond the brush. The gravel grumbled below us as I pulled into an unpaved, roundabout driveway. A small, white house with concrete steps stood amongst various types of trees.
Beyond the house, a red barn matched the background of the fall landscape. Fields rolled off in the distance and trees of all shapes and colors lined their edges. Your property reminded me of the painting that hangs above the couch in my fatherโs office. A classic country home was a place people dream about when longing for peace of mind. I silently questioned why I felt like I was home.
You insisted that I wouldnโt get the full experience if we didnโt see your favorite spots. Of course, the best way to experience these places was by bike. Unfortunately, the bikes you used as a child, and the only ones your family still owned, were lodged beneath forgotten objects and scrap wood in your backyard shed. Covered in cobwebs, they looked like they hadnโt been used in years. However, our determination to ride overpowered our concern regarding the bikesโ durability (we always seemed to bring out the kid in one another). I watched as you strategically shifted the miscellaneous objects to pull the bikes from their slumber.
While your dad helped you pump the tires and oil the chains, I played soccer with your little brother in the field beside your house.
I had forgotten what it felt like to play as a kid. My bare feet werenโt as tough as they used to be and I no longer had the power of infinite stamina, but I was laughing like I was twelve again. I started to picture how you spent your days as a child; every day must of had an adventure of its own. Mother Nature let you wake up to fresh air, eat lunch on the banks of a pond, play in the fields and forests, and bike beautiful roads until sundown.
Maybe that was why you were always down for anything. Your spontaneity was an admirable trait.
In the country, Mother Nature was a humble giver; Iโm thankful I didnโt go my whole life without experiencing her contributions.
Seeing the routine of life in the country, I thought to myself. If this was what life could be like, then I never wanted to leave.
When the bikes were ready enough, we said goodbye to your family and turned toward the road. There were no sidewalks in the country so we biked straight down the middle like we owned the place.
As we rode our bikes down that beautiful country lane, I was so happy to be with you that I reached out my hand to take yours. Our bikesโ wheels whizzed beneath us, but we stayed steady steering with our free hands. The gapping space between us showed the whole road that we were more than just friends.
Back in the city, I would hold your hand close to my body. I was afraid to expose my love and even more scared youโd let me go.
My actions were a consequence of meeting you so young. Two girls holding hands in the midst of a crowd was a vulnerability to me (I promise Iโve grown since then, Iโd like to think Iโd kiss you in front of a million people now).
I thought the country would calm my fears, that the absence of crowds would make me feel braver with you. However, I still noticed a slight pang of fear in my heart. The country roads contained sharp twists and turns, anyone could round the next bend and not like what they saw.
Your home was a beautiful place, but it didnโt hide the fact that I still felt fear with our love.
The fear, however, couldnโt suppress the love I felt for you. Leaving our college town allowed me to gain perspective on a part of you that I hadnโt previously understood. The calming demeanor you possessed stemmed from the relaxing lifestyle you grew up in.
I will never know if it was the country or you that made me feel so at peace that one fall weekend. You had a balance between achievement and contentment that I admired. By visiting your home, you introduced me to a way of life that I didnโt know existed. Country life had a slower pace, a stronger connection to nature, and a sense of peace.
Our relationship, I realized, was like life in the country. We took things slow, enjoyed our quality time, and found peace in one another. With you, I found contentment in peace of mind. But, you canโt stay in the country forever. I havenโt biked down a country road since being with you, and I certainly never held the hand of my forbidden lover while doing so.
I hope you never find this story of mine.
I fear you might find longing and heartbreak within the lines.
Author bio: Erin McCann is a writer from Michigan. This is her first published piece.
