Everything started back in the summer of 2008. I thought he was the love of my life and actually I was right. He wasn’t like the other boys in town. Actually he was one of the few boys in town. I knew that trip would be special. I was with my parents and my three sisters in a small town called Yorktown right in the middle of Utah for what was supposed to be a “family escape”, a city girl’s nightmare. A place with no internet, television, signal for the cell phone and if you asked who Rihanna was they thought it was sort of disease or something like that.
It was right in the middle of nowhere, if that even exists. I arrived there with no hope for fun. My sisters were excited and thought it would be a good thing but I couldn’t be less excited. It sounded boring, more boring then Mr. Mathew’s History. And, believe me, they are pretty boring.
When we arrived to the small house that was supposed to host us, I laid on my bed and started crying. A river of tears that I thought was going to last the entire week. First night I couldn’t sleep at all. Not only was I really hopeless, but my bed was bad, it smelled bed and, if I moved, it would make so much noise that I would wake up the whole room I had to share it with my sisters. One of them snores. Loud.
Next day they we headed to breakfast and my parents were smiling and talking to the people of the house. They were as old as my grandparents. We had pancakes, hot chocolate and toasts waiting for us. I would normally be excited but even that didn’t cheer me up. They were talking about their lives but I wasn’t listening.
Suddently I saw him. He was tall, thin, dark hair with even darker eyes. He was my age. I was the grandkid of the family. I thought that things would get interesting. I was right. For the next days he invited me to meet his few friends in town, we had long talks, we walked through the green fields, he thought me how to ride a horse, showed me the farm. Not to mention that he was so cute I can’t even describe. I had such a cool accent that made me smile every time he opened his mouth.
After that week I had to come back home. We never kissed or even got close to that. But I knew that he was the love of my life. So gentle, so kind, so perfect.
When you meet the one are you supposed to let him go? You only live once. You have to give it try. Why did I have to come back? Why couldn’t I stay there for longer? Something never felt so good. I knew it was him. I had the feeling. I still have it deep in my heart. I wonder how is he doing now. It has been two years since the trip.
Love is the thing that keeps us alive. We all want to find the one. It’s hard but he is around somewhere. They say some people are meant for each other and since I met him I believe in that. We were total opposites. I am a city girl, he was the country boy. But for that week it felt so good not having my social network around. I could escape and be focused on what I learned with that special kid.
I’ll probably never see him again. He didn’t even had a cell phone! Come on! But I still hold that love inside me. That goosebumps every time I think about him, see a horse or a greenfield. Love is everywhere. In your street, in your house, in your heart. Love is the God that guides you everywhere and shows you the way to what is true. What you truly hold in your heart will remain there forever. Moments. Smiles. Thoughts.
His name was Martin. And I’ll never forget him.