It was an evening like any other at the ranch, with the kind of tranquility that makes you pause and feel grateful. The sun was setting, casting its golden glow over the landscape, and the cows were grazing peacefully. The air smelled fresh, a mixture of earth and grass, and the scene felt like something out of a painting. Inspired by the beauty around me, I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture, eager to share the moment with my husband.
I sent him the photo with a caption: “Wish you were here to see this with me.” It was a simple gesture, one I often made when I felt connected to the ranch and wanted him to share in the experience, even from afar. I expected a response like, “Looks amazing” or “Wow, beautiful!” Instead, his reply was something entirely unexpected: “Look closer at the fence. Zoom in.”
Curious, I opened the photo and followed his instruction. I zoomed in on the weathered wooden fence in the foreground of the picture. At first, I didn’t notice anything unusual—it was just an old fence, worn down by time and weather. But as I looked more closely, my heart sank. There, faint but unmistakable, were two initials carved inside a heart: mine and my ex’s.
The memory hit me like a wave. I had completely forgotten about carving those initials. It had been years ago, back when I was young and naive, still caught up in the throes of a first love that felt like it would last forever. The carving was a declaration, a promise etched into wood, as if it could stand the test of time. But like many first loves, it hadn’t lasted. The relationship ended, life moved on, and the carving became just another forgotten relic of the past.
