Page 56 of Before We Break Again
The drive to Happy Springs takes about twenty minutes, but it feels quicker, like the landscape is gently pulling us toward something we’ve been missing for too long.
Santos leans back in his seat, quiet but comfortable, his eyes occasionally flickering toward the window, taking in the view.Dustin’s hands rest easily on the steering wheel, his gaze steady, but I can tell he’s excited.
As we round a final curve, the gates to Blissful Meadows Ranch come into view—large, wrought-iron with intricate detailing, standing tall against the vastness of the property beyond.The name “Blissful Meadows Ranch” is written elegantly across the top, welcoming us home.Beyond the gates, the land stretches as far as the eye can see—open fields, patches of thick forest, and, in the distance, the shimmer of a lake catching the sunlight like something out of a dream.
I swallow as I see the name of the ranch.Why?They could’ve called it anything else, but ... “We’re home,” Dustin says softly, almost reverently, as he presses the button on a remote and the gates swing open, revealing the full expanse of the ranch.
The place is vast.The gravel driveway winds toward the house, framed by perfectly manicured lawns and blooming wildflowers that give the property a splash of color among the deep greens of the trees.
The lake glistens in the distance, its surface calm and still, mirroring the bright blue sky above.There’s a creek, too, winding its way lazily through the property, the gentle sound of water trickling faintly audible even from where we are.
The ranch itself is huge, but not intimidating.It’s warm and welcoming, the kind of place that feels like it’s been built over time, with love and care.The house stands proudly at the center, its wooden beams and stone accents blending seamlessly with the natural beauty around it.And beyond the house, there’s the barn—a big, classic red structure, sturdy and strong, like it’s been there forever.
I glance over at Santos, who’s staring out the window, his eyes wide with something between awe and relief.For a moment, I can almost see the tension melt off his shoulders, like this place is already working its magic on him.
“This is it,” Dustin murmurs, pulling the car to a stop in front of the house.“This is home.”
I step out of the car, the gravel crunching beneath my shoes as I take my first real breath of the mountain air.It’s crisp and cool, tinged with the scent of pine and earth.The sight before me is almost too beautiful to believe.Mt.Hood looms in the distance, its snow-capped peak piercing the sky like something straight out of a painting.It’s majestic and steady, unmovable, as if it’s been watching over this land for centuries, silently promising stability in a world that never stops shifting.
The house stands tall and proud, framed by the rolling fields and thick trees that seem to stretch on forever.Everything about it feels sturdy, rooted—like it’s meant to last, to endure whatever storms life might throw its way.
“You like it?”Dustin’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.I glance over to see him helping Santos out of the car, his hands steady on his shoulders.There’s a tenderness there, a quiet kind of care that Dustin only shows when he thinks no one’s really watching.I rush over to help, placing my hand on Santos’s other side, bracing him as he steadies himself.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, my voice soft as I take in the scene around me.There’s a calm here, an unexpected sense of belonging that seeps into my bones, making me feel like the world has finally slowed down, just enough for us to catch our breath.“Why Blissful Meadows Ranch, though?”
“Because we can’t go back home,” Santos says, his voice quiet but firm.“Maybe to visit Dustin’s grandparents, sure.But to live there ...It’s different.”
“Too many bad memories,” Dustin adds, his voice tightening as he swallows hard, the tension evident in the way his jaw clenches for a moment before he glances away.It’s like he’s pulling back from something too raw, too close.“I can ignore them when I visit my grandparents, but I wouldn’t want to relive them every day.Not for the rest of our lives.”He pauses, his words heavy, weighed down by the memories we never talk about.“It made sense to create something new for us.Something that’s ours.The three of us.A place that has everything we’ve always loved, but without the ghosts and the pain.Reliving those losses ...It would just make us all miserable.”
His words hang in the air between us, and for a moment, the silence feels thick.I glance between them, feeling the truth of what he’s saying.The past has a way of wrapping around us like chains, pulling us back into memories we’ve tried to bury.Memories that hurt too much to carry forward.
We’ve all been through so much—things that have shaped us, broken us, but also tied us together.But sometimes, healing means leaving certain pieces behind.Not because they don’t matter, but because holding onto them keeps us from moving forward.Keeps us stuck in the same cycle of pain.
Home isn’t a place we can return to, not in the way it used to be.Home is us—wherever we are, as long as we’re together, loving each other, holding each other up.It’s okay to leave behind the pieces that caused so much pain, to let go of the things that hurt us, that held us back, that kept us from breathing freely.
This ranch—this land—is more than just property, more than just a place to live.It’s a promise.A chance to build something entirely ours, free from the shadows of the past.A place where the air feels clearer, where we can finally breathe and create new memories—ones that aren’t tied to what we’ve lost.
Dustin’s right.This is our fresh start.
“It’s perfect,” I say quietly, but with certainty.And it is.It feels like the kind of place where broken things can heal, where the past can finally be released.
Dust grins, his easy, lopsided smile lighting up his face in that way that makes him look almost boyish, carefree for just a moment.“Wait till you see the inside.There’s a spot by the creek I think you’ll love.And the barn ...I have some horses I think you’ll want to meet.”
“And a pony,” Santos adds with a wink, the familiar mischief in his eyes making me smile.“He got a pony because he hoped one day you’d be back with us.”
The words land softly, but they stir something deep inside me.A pony?Because Dustin thought I might come back?The idea of them waiting for me, even planning for my return, feels both sweet and unsettling.It wasn’t just some small hope—they’d believed, even when I couldn’t, that I might find my way back to them.
A pony.It feels like a symbol of innocence, something pure.As if they’d always held on to this idea of the three of us being together again, waiting for a future that seemed so uncertain.
I laugh softly, shaking my head as we approach the front door.“You’re already trying to sell me on this place.”
“I don’t need to sell you on anything,” Dustin says, his voice low but full of warmth.“It sells itself.”
And he’s right.As I look out over the wide expanse of land, the way the trees sway gently in the breeze, the sunlight bouncing off the surface of the creek, I can feel it too.This place—our place—feels like a fresh start.The kind of place where maybe, just maybe, we can build something new.Something that’s ours.Something that lasts.
Santos adjusts his crutches, and we fall in step beside him, not exactly helping him walk, but staying close enough to catch him if he wobbles or needs an extra hand.Every now and then, Dustin reaches out, making sure Santos is steady, and I do the same.His steps are slow, cautious, but there’s something different in his posture, as if just being here—on this land, at this ranch—has already lightened something inside him.Maybe it’s the familiarity, the sense of safety that this place seems to offer, or maybe it’s simply the fact that we’re together again, at least for now.
The walk to the front door feels longer than it is.The crutches thudding softly against the gravel.But it’s not frustrating—it’s grounding.The three of us, side by side, taking our time, moving forward together.
