Love in Small mountain town


Hello, and welcome to Interesting Stories, and if you are here today to read to a dreamy story that will sooth you and comfort you, you are in the right place. Tonight, I will guide you to a night of restful sleep as I tell you the story of love sparking in a small mountain town. We will follow Charlotte as she wanders down snow coated streets aglow with the candlelight flickering in old store windows. We’ll join her as she navigates the simplicity of small towns with peace and love in her heart. And, perhaps the sweetest of all as she falls in love with a man full of compassion, love, and respect. Before we begin, let us take a moment to find comfort and peace in the space we are in now. Lay down in a position that is kind to your body and your mind.  Can you feel yourself sinking into the mattress? Let us begin. Charlotte’s breath fogged up the train window. Beyond the frosty glass, a landscape of towering mountains and lofty trees lazily flickered by. Overhead, the clouds were dark and heavy, hanging so low that she could see the curve of each cloud. She knew that snow was on the way. This time of year, it seemed to snow almost every day in her hometown. If she closed her eyes, she could remember every bit of her childhood snow days here.  How she would awaken in her nice, warm bed to the steady rumble of snowplows sliding piles of freshly fallen snow to the side. 

She would crawl out of her bed with a blanket draped over her shoulders and look out over the landscape, amazed by how perfectly the white flakes had blanketed the landscape, subduing every harsh line and turning the world into a one of softness and peace. She closed her eyes as the memories washed over her. The consistent drone of the train wheels and mechanics was a steady, rhythmic lullaby that seemed to be urging her to sleep Chug, chug, chug, chug, the wheels spun, and spun, and spun, driving her deeper and deeper into the depths of the countryside.

The door beside her slid open, gently breaking her nostalgic moment. A waiter in a velvety coat handed her a cup of steaming hot chocolate, one she had ordered only moments earlier. She sipped down on it, allowing the sweetness to engulf her taste buds and warm her up from the inside. But that wasn’t the only thing that came through the door. A man sat down across from her. He had dark skin and glanced up to her with kind amber eyes.

She knew those eyes from somewhere, and as she met his gaze, she knew exactly where from, Growing up in such a small town, everyone knew everyone. It was something she missed about White Cedar Valley. She felt as if she was always safe, protected by a community of people who loved and appreciated her. For years, there was one person who was at the center of that feeling of love and safety “Edgar”. Edgar was the neighbor boy, the boy she used to catch fireflies with on warm summer nights. They would frolic through the flower filled meadows with mason jars, scooping fireflies out of the air. They’d lay in the cool grass together, looking at the warm glow of the bugs and the starry sky just beyond them. In autumn, they would journey to the outskirts of town, where the farmers’ fields and orchards were ripe with the bounty of the season. 

They would meander through cornfields, breathing in the earthy fall air as they got happily lost in the rows of plants. When winter came, they would spend all day on the pond by their house. She swore, she could still feel the breeze that would lap at her face as they spun around on their ice skates, their laughs warming the air around them. Then, in spring, they would slink outside to soak in the warmth of the Earth awakening from its slumber. They’d catch tadpoles and listen to the peepers’ gentle calls as they navigated fields of wildflowers. It was a beautiful friendship. Truthfully, it was a beautiful childhood, and that was largely because of him. They had grown up together. They shared the first kiss together. They went to prom together. She could write a novel about their time together – but it came to an end when she moved away for college. When they locked eyes, it was as if nothing had changed. Beyond his amber gaze, she saw the same friendliness, the same warmth that had filled her soul and engaged her mind for years and years. 

They hugged in a tight, loving embrace that seemed to cement her in the moment. He asked her how she liked the big city, and she didn’t quite know how to answer. She loved the availability of everything.  She loved the motion of the city, the amount of things she had access to, the energy that could be found down every street. But lately, she felt as though she had been missing something. She longed for days in fresh air in the company of white pine and oak trees. She longed for her cozy hometown bakery where everyone knew her name. She told Edgar the truth of her new life, and he told her the truth of his. He had taken over his father’s carpentry business pretty soon after they graduated. He loved the work, but he wanted to explore, to see different places and feel the sun on his skin more months out of the year. They spoke for the rest of the ride, talking about their hopes and dreams with little hesitation and no boundaries. It was a freeing conversation, during which they found themselves inching closer and closer together. They only paused when the train crested over a mountain and began its descent into White Cedar Valley. The sight stole Charlotte’s breath, replacing it with a flood of warm nostalgia. White Cedar Valley sat in a quiet valley far from the nearest city.  On three sides, it was surrounded by high granite peaks that seemed to kiss the sky.  Cedar trees dotted the mountains, washing them in a sea of white and evergreen. On the western side of the valley, a river laced through the countryside.  Even in winter, it didn’t stop flowing. Now, it was swathed with pockets of ice, dotted with holes where the water bubbled up, providing deer with a place to drink at during the cold months. 

Near the granite cliffs, farms peppered the landscape. Charlotte could see their old wood and stone fences which seemed to stretch on for miles, winding around bends and over hills. The center of town lay along the river. It was an old New England town with cobblestone streets and cozy brick buildings down the main street. Victorian mansions lined the river, their towers aglow in stunning shades of green, blue, and yellow. And throughout the entire town, old church steeples kept watch. It was like something out of a fairytale, a town you see on postcards and in your dreams. Even though she had grown up in it, it still took her breath away every time. “Is it good to be home?” Edgar asked as he watched Charlotte’s reaction.  There was compassion in his eyes, blended with that playful nature he always carried with him.  She wiped a single tear from her expressive eyes and told him that it was wonderful to be home. When they arrived at the station, Charlotte was touched to see the entire building decorated for Christmas. 

Wreaths and garlands hung from the exposed beams of the antique building, turning it into a holiday wonderland. Her parents met her and Edgar as they stepped off the train. She could see her mother’s excitement at the sight of them together. Ever since they were little kids, her mother wanted them to end up together. She updated Charlotte on his life nearly every time she called, urging her to call him and check in with him. But now, she wasn’t going to have to do that. As they were preparing to leave, Charlotte handed Edgar a slip of paper with her number on it. She told him it’d be nice to spend some time together, but even that felt like an understatement. After a hearty meal with her parents at her childhood home, she slunk off to bed, exhausted from such a long day. But she hovered by the window in her old bedroom for a moment.

  She traced her fingers along the wall as she tiptoed over the old wooden floor, still remembering every knot in the grain and every board that creaked when you stepped on it. Outside, the yard and the street were glowing in the light of the orange street lamps.  The snow sparkled iridescently. In the house across the way, there was a single light on.  She knew the light well. For years, every night, her and Edgar would sit in front of the glass and flash Morse-code messages to each other with their flashlights. As she reminisced on the memory, a soft light flashed at her from the window. Across the way, she could see the faint silhouette of Edgar – just enough to tell he was smiling.  He flashed a message to her again. She wrote each letter in a notebook, the sound of the graphite gliding against the paper like music to her ears in the still winter night.

 I missed you – the message read. Staring down at those simple words nearly brought her to tears. For so long, she felt as though a part of her-self was missing. She never considered that that part might be Edgar. She glanced around for a flashlight – and to no surprise, she found one in the drawer beside the window, exactly where she left it all those years ago. I missed you – she messaged back. In that moment, she felt like a kid yet again. The air was still and quiet around her as the next message arrived, It was a childhood code they came up with in case a message was too long.  There were dozens of codes – but this one was one she could never forget, because they used it at least once a week for years. It meant ‘Meet me at the willow tree. She shook the flashlight up and down for yes.  Charlotte pulled on a warm wool sweater, leggings, and boots, along with a thick jacket. As a child, she always had to sneak out to meet him at the tree. She had a bag in her closet for the occasion – with a large puffer jacket and boots, ready for any time she wanted to meet Edgar. But now, she simply stepped out the front door into the brisk night air. She could almost taste the pine trees and mountains on her tongue with every breath – filling her lungs, filling her being. It was invigorating.  It made her feel beautifully alive, yet small, all at the same time. She walked through the soundless town with her eyes turned to the sky.  The only noise was the crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch of her boots on the squishy snow.  It was a sound like no other, a sound that would forever bring her back to her childhood of sledding under stars and whispering under willow trees with hot chocolate in hand. 

The willow tree was at the end of the neighborhood down a small hill. It rested in the center of a forest, far away from the neighbors and, at times, the world. The trees all around her were coated in a thin layer of ice – just enough to make every branch, needle, and pinecone glisten in the December moonlight. But the star of the show was the willow tree.  The only willow for miles, it had grown to be impossibly tall. Its tendrils sloped to the ground, lowered down by the weight of snowflakes.  It looked like an ice sculpture, a work of art that was too perfect for this world. Charlotte stood for a moment marveling at the sight before her.  In that moment, she truly realized how blessed she had been to have such a beautiful childhood. A childhood full of ice coated willows and frog-filled streams. She stepped into the willow, parting the branches with the back of her hand to reveal the cozy area underneath.  There was a single bench there, a bench she and Edgar had crafted years and years ago.  She wiped a dusting of snow off the seat.  Underneath, etched into the grain was a simple message: “Charlotte and Edgar were here.” She couldn’t help but smile. She never imagined that life would take them back here again.  And yet, here she was. And there he was. Edgar parted the branches and stepped into the tree with her, his eyes aglow with compassion and adoration. “I see you still remember our code.” he chimed.  His voice was smooth and calming, with a tone that had calmed her in many situations over the years. He extended a cup to her. When she brought it to her nose, she knew exactly what it was “Our special hot chocolate.” – Charlotte said. As children, they spent many winter nights perfecting their own hot chocolate recipe. They even sent the recipe to the North Pole, hoping that Santa would bring them up to his workshop to make some just for him. It was a sweet gesture and a lovely memory in a simple cup. She brought it to her lips as the steam rose over her face, a welcome contrast between her and the night air. As the hot chocolate filled her mouth, she was flooded with a wave of nostalgia that warmed her from the inside out.  She was also flooded with sweetness unlike any other – as if she had poured the contents of a chocolate shop into her mouth. Judging by Edgar’s reaction, he felt the same way. 

 They both laughed, plopping down on the bench next to each other. “I found the recipe and followed it exactly, I swear.” Edgar chuckled. Charlotte swirled the cup, watching the thick hot chocolate leave trails along the edge of the cup. “Oh, I believe you,” She chimed, “We were 8, we would make something that sweet.” As their laughs died down, they lapsed into a comfortable silence.  It wasn’t awkward, it wasn’t uncomfortable it felt like home. Here under the icy willow tendrils in the moonlight, she felt at home with Edgar in a way she hasn’t in years. They sat and talked for hours, their breath forming clouds with every word they spoke, their hands searching for each other for a gentle touch or caress on occasion.  The conversation was like the river that ran through town – ebbing and flowing around familiar corners, resting in deep spots for a few peaceful moments before continuing to move forward.  It was always comfortable, always natural. She found herself getting lost in his eyes on occasion. As a child, she would always say his eyes looked like honey, and now, she could see how true that was.  They sparkled when he spoke of certain things, and swirled with emotion when he spoke of others.  He was a man of compassion, a man who found joy in the smallest of things – like flashlight Morse code or a shared hot chocolate under a starry sky. By the time the night really began to cool, they had been talking for hours. Charlotte hadn’t realized her teeth were chattering until Edgar extended his suede jacket to her. 

She tried to tell him she didn’t need it, but as he leaned in close and wrapped the sleeves of it around her, she melted at the touch. The two began walking home together, just like old times. As they neared their homes, they both found themselves walking slower and slower, not wanting the night to end.  They hovered in front of their doors, unsure of how to part ways. But Charlotte made a decision.  All those years feeling empty, all those years feeling as if something was missing…she didn’t want to do that anymore. Snow began to fall around them. The flurry was a  dance of large, fluffy snowflakes, the kind that  drift from the sky ever so slowly, turning the  landscape into a scene from a Christmas movie. They both gazed up at the sky with delight.  It felt magical, ethereal, like something they had been waiting for all their lives. Charlotte’s gaze drifted down to Edgar. She watched as his amber eyes continued to stare in awe and wonder at the snowy display all around him.  That joy – that love of life – is precisely why she did what she did next. She leaned forward slowly, wrapping her hand gently around the back of his neck. She drew him in, pressing her lips softly against his. She felt herself melting into his arms,  melding into him as they kissed  in the middle of the street,  finding catharsis for their years and  years of quiet love in that single moment. When they pulled away, they shared a look unlike any other.  A look that told Charlotte Edgar was going to be in her life for a long, long time. That night, she curled up in her childhood bed, knowing she had done something she had always wanted, that she had the person she always dreamt of being with.  Sleep came easily and beautifully that night, and her dreams were filled with nothing but peace. For the next few weeks, Charlotte and Edgar spent every moment together. They danced on the cobblestone streets of downtown in the moonlight.  They ate at all the restaurants they had as kids and blew bubbles in their drinks, just like they had 20 years ago.  At night, they held each other tightly, whispering about their hopes and dreams for the future. Charlotte wanted nothing more than a life of happiness and love – and that’s the life she knew she could have with Edgar.

They longed for something in between the city and the country, and they knew exactly how to find that. They renovated an RV for themselves and headed out on the open road.  Charlotte would work remotely, curled up on their soft couch as they traversed mountains and cities and plains across the country. Edgar would freelance wherever the wind took them. As they drove off in their RV, Charlotte held Edgar’s hand.  She glanced behind them as they rose up over the mountain, leading out of White Cedar Valley.  She looked at the glowing lights of downtown, the peaceful farms, and the tall church steeples with gratitude. It was the town that made them, the town that made a love like this possible. The last thing she saw, far off in the distance, was a single willow tree. It seemed to glisten in the sunshine, outshining every other tree in the forest.  Emotion welled in her eyes as she watched it disappear over the horizon. There would be more willow trees in their future.  Forests full of them wherever they went as long as they went there together.