Creative Nonfiction: The thrill of the first time
The thrill of the first time
The first time I left my city, Cumaná, I did it with some friends who were going to look for some cows in a plains town called Valle de la Pascua. We were also going to that town because we had to look for a girl to hire her as a nanny. I remember that since the trip was going to be short, I took a few clothes, put them in my suitcase and left with my friends. The trip from my city to Valle de la Pascua lasts 6 hours, but the time flew because we went listening to music, eating and joking.
My friends and I would arrive at a hacienda, owned by the family of one of them. From the very moment I arrived I was impressed with the landscape: there were animals everywhere and the vegetation was a continuity of the horizon. My eyes went back and forth, from every side, marveling at everything. The owners of the house welcomed us and immediately began to make plans with us. First we would go to see the whole hacienda, then in the evening we would have a barbecue to celebrate our visit and the next day we would see the surroundings. At that moment the only thing on my mind was that I hadn't brought enough clothes to change.
The son of the owners of the house was our guide. He and I hit it off immediately: we liked each other very much from the first moment we saw each other. On our tour of the hacienda, he took me to where the horses were and promised me that the next day he would teach me how to ride. We also went to the cheese factory and made cheese. We not only milked the cows, but also helped in its manufacture. It is worth mentioning that on the ride he was giving us the names of some trees, birds and making jokes. The ride was perfect and I was riding on a cloud. He kept repeating, "This is beautiful and incredible. I have never been in front of so many beautiful things".
The evening was also perfect: carne asada in the middle of the Venezuelan plains, with good music and good company. Although the mosquitoes were doing their thing, my attention was focused on the stories told by the villagers, especially those told by the son of the owner of the house. Never before had I heard a concert of crickets and toads on the same stage, amplified by the silence of the night and the vastness of the savannah. Each noise was new and I was intoxicated just listening to them.
The next morning I woke up in the early hours of the morning to the song of birds and cicadas. My body was vibrating with excitement and there was a strange happiness on my face. My friends could tell, even though I was not aware of it. That morning and every morning I was at the hacienda, I went for walks and horseback riding with the son of the owners of the house. We had such a rapport that it was evident that a more intimate feeling was being born between us. The last night, before returning home, he asked me:
_Can I go to Cumana and visit you? -he asked me quietly so that no one would hear. My heart almost jumped out of my chest. I stared at him and just nodded my head. I couldn't answer with words: they were all stuck in my throat.
The next day we said goodbye and left early in the morning. Unlike the trip out, now I was silent and although my friends were smiling and joking, I was silent looking out the window. I was angry with the world, I felt that I should stay in that hacienda. In short: I had fallen in love and I didn't want to go back to my hometown. Angeidy, the girl who was going to work as a nanny, was next to me and she was also silent: it was the first time she had left her village. We had already been traveling for three hours when I felt Angeidy shout, pointing out the window:
_A big river, a big river -I turned to see what she was pointing at and there it was: imposing, majestic, bright and blue. It was the sea. It was the first time Angeidy looked at the sea and her eyes were shining with emotion:
_It's a big river. The biggest river I've ever seen," Angeidy repeated, not believing her eyes.
Without being able to help it, tears came to my eyes and I realized that I had missed my city so much. Just like when you know the love you feel for someone only when after a long time without seeing them, you see them again. The same thing happened to me that afternoon with the sea: I saw it more beautiful, warmer, more mine. At that moment I realized that I could never live away from it.
All images are from my personal gallery and the text was translated with Deepl.
What a beautiful story, dear Nancy. Even if it is the first, second or third time, moving away from what you love and treasure generates great suffering. Undoubtedly, that was an emotionally charged journey. Thank you for sharing this beautiful and unforgettable experience.
As you said, my friend: unforgettable experience. Unique for me. Immensely grateful for your support. Hugs to you.
This is a beautiful story. I enjoy your story.
Thank you very much for your reading and comment.
Beautiful story, your feeling of nostalgia was transmitted to me when I read. You allowed us to see with your letters those images of a good paradise to rest and treasure. You always miss what you appreciate the most, thanks for sharing your experience.
Exactly: And sometimes only when there is distance, we miss. Grateful for your comment and your reading. Greetings.
Such a beautiful love story—your love of the sea and your newfound human love. This story was an absolute joy to read. Your joy when riding a horse was particularly mesmerising. Lovely writing.
'm glad you liked it. I feel very touched by your words. Thanks for the opportunity. Best regards.
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Yuuuup! Immensely grateful to you. Thank you for the opportunity to grow with you. Greetings