Polaroids and Postcards | ✔️

Chapter 31: Colorado Cabin

"Traveling's not something you're good at. It's something you do. Like Breathing." – Gayle Foreman

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The inside of the cabin was the epitome of coziness and comfort. On the ground floor there was a living room with homemade quilts hanging over nearly every spare surface, throw pillows with inspirational sayings cushioning every corner, and logs waiting in the fireplace to be burned. Bookshelves lined with quaint little knick-knacks and books with new and old covers bordered the pale walls, surrounded by framed paintings of peaceful nature scenes. The curtains danced softly as a gust of wind passed through the open door where we stood, looking inside. The kitchen was all cream-toned paint and grey granite countertops, with splashes of yellow in the form of sunflowers. Upstairs, there was a loft bedroom, complete with a balcony looking out over the cliff's edge and down into the valley below.

It was absolute perfection in every sense of the word.

"Della..." I croaked, spinning around to look at her as I stumbled across the threshold. "What is this? H-how did you—?"

"Blogging, Jason," she smiled, somewhat bashfully. "I have connections with the company that owns this place and they basically give me a place to stay if I write a post about my visit."

My mouth fell open in bewilderment. "You get sponsorships?"

She shrugged a little. "Fairly often, actually..."

My brain raced. "Just how big is your blog?"

She tossed her lavender hair over her shoulder. "It doesn't matter, Jason. Just enjoy the moment. We're here and we don't have to leave until we're ready!"

We unloaded a few must-haves from the terrifying trunk of the car and then proceeded to wander around the cabin, enjoying the atmosphere of total peace and absolute serenity. I was going to soak in as much of this place as I possibly could.

As Della wandered upstairs to the bedroom, I found my way back into the living room. I discovered that there was a record player with a huge selection of music to play. The quilts all around me smelled like fresh air and cinnamon, capturing the very essence of autumn in the mountains. The fireplace was begging to be lit up, but I made myself wait until nightfall, when I knew we'd need the added warmth.

Upon further investigation, I found that the refrigerator in the kitchen was completely stocked with food and drinks, as was the pantry. Nothing had been neglected. A scented candle burned on the corner of the granite countertop and the subtle smell of pumpkin wafted by me.

I suddenly felt more at home than I had ever felt before. There was something profoundly homelike here, something so familiar yet simultaneously unfamiliar to me because I never remembered feeling it before that moment. At least, not so strongly.

Eventually, it struck me that Della had been upstairs for far too long without any sound, so I began to make my way up the stairs to check on her. When I finally caught sight of her, she was on the balcony, leaning onto the railing with her hands clasped before her. My hoodie was still hanging loosely around her slight frame and the breeze blew strands of her colorful hair back towards the open sliding-glass door where I stood watching her. The sun was setting before her, melting into various shades of pinks and purples.

Della's steely grey eyes held that faraway look once again, as if she was trying to will herself to fly into the sunset before it disappeared behind the mountains completely. As if she wanted to keep it hanging in the sky permanently, just like this, forever...

For the second time that day, my heart missed a beat. And I felt a twinge of some emotion that I had previously thought I was immune to.

I didn't want this moment to end either. I truly believe I could've stayed in that one moment of blissful silence and acceptance for eternity. Just me and Della, watching the everlasting sunset, ad feeling like home for the very first time.