The Roads We Travel

This is a continuation of my mini-story Heart/Soul, published on @smallmag. It’s a work of fiction I worked on two years ago during my self-induced therapy from life. Bits and parts of these short stories are actually true to my life, but I’ll let you discern that on your own. If you haven’t read Heart/Soul, you probably should click that link above first. *wink* May heartstrings be tugged inside you and make you feel alive through this.

You held my hand while you drove us to the sleepy town of Northampton. We were always like that. When I do something wrong, you tell me that it was your fault and then you take me on a roadtrip the next day. Everytime I ask why you forgive me even when I don’t deserve it, you smile and say that it’s because you love me.

The sunlight ran past through my fingers as I held out my arm to feel the wind. You being here with me, smiling with me — it’s perfect.

I met you when I snapped a Polaroid of Rundetaarn in Copenhagen and you just happened to walk right by when I clicked the shutter. I remember seething at you because it was my last film and it captured the silhouette of a stranger. A beautiful stranger.

Two years and a handful of handwritten letters later, we are here.

Two years ago, you were struggling with your career while I was a free-spirited kid dealing with her equestrian frustrations. We found each other broken, cleaning up after the mess that our friends left us. We stayed together because we saw the fix in each other.

We had this little cabin by the woods. You said it was our happy place. I looked over the river out back and I could feel you smiling behind me. I refused to look at you because I wanted the moment to last forever. And because I was smiling, too.

Each morning I see you and all I can feel is love. When you see me looking at you, that smile of yours is all I need.

I watch you as you sit on a stump out front and write in your journal and I see that scar on your arm. That long line of skin that always reminds me of my mistake. Your protection saved my life when I accidentally hit the accelerator rather than the brake. I cried as I looked at you, wounded and bruised. You looked at me and smiled through your own tears and all I could think of was that I should be the one looking like that and not you. To have a person like you — who sees past through my recklessness and pain. You’re truly wonderful. And everytime the sun rises, it reminds me of all the hope and faith you’ve had in me.

One thing is for sure: you never let me drive on our roadtrips again.

This is how I love you. And this is how you love me.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.