Samuel
Autumn has taken the mountains overnight.
The trees behind the house burn with color now, deep reds and gold spilling down the slopes like the forest caught fire while we were sleeping.
A thin layer of frost still clings to the grass along the stone path, glittering faintly in the early morning light.
I sit on the bike at the edge of the driveway, the engine idling beneath me while the wind moves through the leaves.
Behind me, the screen door opens. I don’t have to turn around to know it’s Raven. Her footsteps cross the porch, light and familiar. A second later, she swings onto the seat behind me and wraps her arms around my waist. Her cheek presses against my back.
“Take me somewhere beautiful,” she says.
I glance over my shoulder. “You got somewhere in mind?”
She shakes her head, dark hair falling loose around her shoulders. “Surprise me.”
I smile a little to myself. That’s my Raven. No plan. No map. Just the open road ahead.
“Alright,” I say, rolling the throttle. “Hold on.”
The bike pulls onto the road, gravel crunching beneath the tires before the pavement takes over. Raven’s arms tighten around me as we turn toward the highway.
The mountains open up around us as we climb higher. The road curves through stretches of forest where the trees arch overhead, their leaves blazing in every shade of autumn. Wind pulls at my jacket, and I feel Raven shift behind me, settling closer.
She laughs once when we lean into a long curve.
I feel it more than I hear it. The sound stays with me the rest of the ride. I don’t know why. Maybe because some part of me understands something my brain hasn’t caught up to yet.
Moments like this don’t come twice.
Bushkill Falls is already busy when we pull into the parking lot. Families move along the walkways, people in bright jackets and scarves, cameras hanging from their necks as they follow the trails through the woods.
Raven swings off the bike and pulls her helmet off, shaking her hair loose.
Her eyes sweep across the trees.
“Oh wow,” she says softly.
I lean against the bike and watch her. She always changes a little when something captures her heart. Her eyes soften, and the rest of the world seems to fall away until there's only the thing she's looking at.
“Come on,” she says, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the entrance like she’s the one who brought me here.
The air carries the scent of damp leaves and cold stone as we make our way through the forest. Somewhere ahead, the waterfall announces itself long before it comes into view, its steady roar rolling through the trees like distant thunder.
The path winds between towering pines before giving way to a long flight of wooden steps descending into the gorge.
Moisture clings to the rail beneath my hand, cool against my skin, while a fine mist drifts upward, settling lightly across our faces.
With every step, the trees begin to open, and flashes of white water appear through the branches before the falls finally reveal themselves in full.
Raven walks a few steps ahead of me, her hand skimming the railing as the staircase curves along the rock face. The roar of the falls swells until the trees finally give way, revealing the bridge and the waterfall beyond it.
Water rushes over the cliff in wide ribbons of white, breaking against the dark stone before plunging into the pool below. Cool mist drifts through the gorge, settling over the bridge and dampening the sleeves of our jackets.
Raven stops halfway across.
The waterfall fills her gaze.
So does the smile that slowly finds her.
“Sam,” she breathes. “This is incredible.”
I rest my hand against the railing beside her. The water cascades below us. A single leaf lands near the edge of the falls. It spins once on the surface before the current catches it, carrying it downstream.
Raven’s eyes follow the leaf as the current pulls it past the rocks until it disappears around the bend.
“Even when things end,” she says quietly, her eyes still following the water as it winds through the rocks, “the current keeps going.”
I glance at her, then back toward the rushing falls.
“Yeah,” I whisper.
Raven keeps watching the current, as though it has more answers to give.
The steady rush of water fills the air around us, the mist cool against my face. People move along the walkway behind us, voices rising and fading as they pass, but none of it reaches the small space between us.
Raven slips her hand into mine. Her fingers are cool, but they fit against mine like they always have.
“If I could choose one moment to keep,” she says quietly, “I think it would be this one.”
Leaves drift through the air around us, and I tighten my grip on her hand.
“Then we keep it.”
“How?”
I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone.
Raven raises an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”
“Keeping this moment.”
Before she can protest, I step a little closer beside her and hold the phone out in front of us.
She laughs, soft and real, and the world seems to slow for a second.
The picture catches her mid-smile, hair moving in the breeze, the white ribbon of the waterfall behind us.
I glance down at the screen. “Not bad.”
She leans in to look. “Sam, I look windblown.”
“You look happy.”
She studies the picture for another second before nudging my shoulder.
“Send it to me.”
I slide the phone back into my pocket.
“Maybe.”
She rolls her eyes but keeps smiling.
The current carries a handful of leaves through the gorge, slipping around the rocks without ever stopping.
Raven's hand finds mine again.
We stand together in the mist, watching the water pass beneath us.
Neither of us says we should leave. As though staying here a little longer might let us hold on to this version of our lives just a little while more.
By the time we make it back to the bike, the afternoon light has softened.
The mountains glow in shades of copper and amber, the sun dipping lower behind the ridges. Raven pulls her jacket tighter before climbing onto the seat behind me.
"You did good," she says, bumping her helmet gently against mine. "This was exactly what I needed."
“Glad you approve,” I say and start the engine.
She laughs softly and wraps her arms around my waist again.
The road winds through the mountains as we ride home, the trees blazing around us like the whole forest is putting on a show before winter comes.
Somewhere along the long stretch of road that curves past the ridge, Raven’s arms loosen slightly around my waist. I realize after a moment that she’s fallen asleep. A small smile pulls at the corner of my mouth.
I ease back on the throttle, careful not to jostle her awake. She trusts me enough to fall asleep on the back of my bike. The thought settles somewhere deep inside my chest.
The mountains drift by, one ridge giving way to the next. The road bends through the trees, asking nothing from us except to keep following it.
I could get us home faster. Instead, I let the miles linger. I don't know why.
Maybe it's the weight of her against my back.
Maybe it's the quiet.
Maybe it's the feeling that, somehow, this is exactly where we're supposed to be.
I don't have the words for it.
I only know I want a little more of it.