Even more mature.
18EVERYTHING I BREAK
Riley
“Jesus!”I shout as I open my front door and find Dom standing there, two coffees in hand.
"Good morning, sunshine,” he says.
“I could say the same about you. Look at you, vertical and chirpy this early.”
“This is my new routine, remember?”
“Mm-hmm.” He hands me one of the cups. “What is this?”
“An apology,” he says.
“For?”
“For being a jerk yesterday when you were just worried about me.”
“I wasn’t worried about you.”
Liar.
The smirk he shows me makes it obvious he knows I’m lying too.
“And I don’t drink coffee before my run, but thanks, I guess.”
“I thought you’d want to come with me insteadof your run.”
“I already watched the sunrise with you once, and I have no need or want to watch you fix a fence, so no thanks.”
He shakes his head. “So you wouldn’t want to go check on a calf with me?”
What? “Excuse me?” I perk up. Who wouldn’t want to go look at a baby cow?
“That’s what I thought.” He walks down my porch steps. “Come on, I have to do rounds, and I need to check on her. I might let you name her.”
“We’re not supposed to name them,” I add. I got yelled at a lot over this, because if we did name them, it made them pets, and they’re not pets, they’re business, Mom used to say.
“It’ll be our secret,” he adds, walking to his truck and not waiting for me. I rush to catch up with him; I don’t want to miss this opportunity.
I slept great last night. Since I spent the whole day painting, my brain was tired, and my body was too, even after my whole encounter with Dom that left me reeling and buzzing. That man sends my body into a spiral every time I’m near him. I had to take matters into my own hands, with whispers of his name as I unraveled before falling asleep.
Then, I had the best sleep of my life. With him in it. Between my legs. Which made me wake up again to take care of business.
And now, here we are, quietly sitting next to each other, and I’m getting worked up again just thinking about it. The truck tires crunch on the gravel road before slowing to a crawl as we pull into the quiet pasture, only the low hum of the engine breaking the silence. When he shuts the ignition off, it’s just our breathing in this space.
“Come on,” he says, jumping out of the truck as I do the same. We get closer but leave space as the sturdy mama stands over a tiny, light-brown calf. The baby is still wobbling slightly on new legs, its coat looking soft and velvety and perfect. The mother is gently nudging her baby, encouraging it toward her, her movements deliberate. Protective.
“It’s breathtaking to see,” I murmur. This is not my first timewatching this interaction. I grew up here, and I was Dad’s sidekick. Arnie’s too. But it’s been years since I took a second to take something like this in.
I watch as the calf nudges back, finally finding its place to nurse. The mother cow closes her eyes briefly, her tail flicking lazily.
It’s in times like these that I’m reminded how magical nature is and how insignificantly small we all are. Like when I stand next to a giant mountain or a deep cliff. Or when I swim against the current and watch fish. There are awe-inspiring moments everywhere. I just have to stop for a minute and listen.
"It's just...so peaceful," I say, feeling tears prick my eyes. The intensity of this moment is almost too much. The instinctive bond radiating from them is a simple, sacred kind of love. The one I used to have, until she was taken from me.
