Sunset at the Field

I don’t believe in love at first sight. I suppose I did once, back when I believed in fairies and magic and that good things happen to good people. Those days are long gone. I have come to find that love is a slow burn, quick to light but slow to flourish. It grows slowly, concealed in the small moments, unnoticed until it is a roaring fire.

Isn’t this sort of love, stable and ever-present, better than a flash in the pan?

The sun was just beginning to set, casting the miles of soybeans and prairie grasses in a golden-hued glow. My hair danced around my face as the chilly breeze nipped at my skin, a gentle hint of autumn’s imminent approach. Sighing, I reveled in the satisfying warmth in the center of my chest. Fall is my favorite time of year.

The field was a perfectly kempt sanctuary in the middle of fertile farmland, an area for recreation and primitive camping. It was like Atlantis deep beneath ocean waves: still, isolated, protected. Even the constant sounds of traffic from back home were far away. Taking a deep breath, my lungs filled with the peace of a world far removed.

My boyfriend, Chris, and I had finished setting up the campsite and were ready for a relaxing weekend spent without the stressors of home. I looked up at the sky. Before the daylight disappeared, I wanted to take a walk to stretch my legs.

We strolled with placid steps, my hand loosely holding the leash of my pit bull terrier, Remy, who trotted lazily between us. A stout, brindle beauty, Remy often draws the eyes of people who see her, both admiring and wary. Many in the past have commented on her lovely striped coloring, stroking her muscular back like a rare and majestic creature. Others watch her with a suspicious eye, their gazes belying their unspoken biases held by so many toward her kind. Ever oblivious, Remy considers all of them friends, attempting to win them over with her drooling smile.

Warm brown eyes turned toward me, a long pink tongue hanging lazily out of her mouth as we strolled around the clearing. Smiling down at her, I wondered if she felt the same weightless in that place that I did.

I know very little about Remy’s first years of life. When we first met her, Remy was living in an animal shelter, kept separate from the other animals like an inmate in a cell. We had already seen several dogs before her, but none had yet sparked the connection that I was hoping for. They had all been too young, too large, too energetic.

Too different.

It had only been a few months since I had lost my last pit bull. Okie was my gray and timid old lady, a loving dog who continued to trust despite the terrible tragedies she had suffered. Our relationship began late in her life after the death of her previous owner. When it became clear that nobody else could take her in, I gave her a home, gaining a companion in my grief.

That love had been thrust upon me, very slow to develop in the pit of my broken heart. But I had loved her still to the very end.

Chris and I listened pessimistically as the shelter staff told us of one more dog. She was a pit bull that had been surrendered by her previous owner, the victim of a struggling economy. They did not know much about her, only that she was about five years old and had not been around children or other dogs. I thought of Okie and my heart ached, but I agreed to meet her.

               Remy came running out of her kennel, a bull-headed animal with a mouth that seemed to curl up into an excited smile. She bound around the small room with energetic glee, sniffing and jumping on everyone she came close to. Her vivacity was contagious, lifting my spirits slightly as my eyes followed her around the room. Encouraged by my apparent interest, one staff member told us about Remy’s favorite activity, pulling a stuffed squeaky toy out of her pocket. We all laughed as she grabbed the toy and tore it apart before our eyes. I could feel my heart begin to thaw slightly, and despite my apprehension, I agreed to take her home. Maybe she needed someone to take a chance on her, just like Okie had taken a chance on me.

We came to a stop at the far end of the clearing, Remy sniffing the ground feverishly as she took in the intense mixture of scents. I futilely attempted to coax her forward, but her stubbornness overpowered me. Chuckling, I looked over my shoulder at the deepening hues of the skyline. Pink and orange and yellow splashed across the heaves like tender brushstrokes on an artist’s canvas. It was easy to see how people could fall in love in the light of the setting sun.

Looking at Remy, I felt a sudden swell of emotion. The leash attached to her collar seemed incongruous, like shackles placed on the wrists of a free man. I looked at Chris, his face registering the same thoughts as mine.

Without words, he reached down and grabbed the clasp of Remy’s leash, quickly releasing it. My knuckles tightened, anxiety beginning to creep in. Remy had never been allowed off her leash, though she had seized her freedom a few times by escaping out the door when we first got her. We had convinced ourselves at the time that it was just a result of the transitional period, that time would convince her that she was home. I wondered if enough time had passed.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I asked.

Chris nodded. “Just see what she does. She can’t go far.”

Remy sniffed along the edge of the soybean field, initially unaware of any change. Still nervous, Chris took my hand and we turned to continue our walk.

A few steps ahead, I looked back just in time to see the realization of her newfound freedom dawn on her. Her eyes met mine, a look of confusion on her furry face as she started to trot toward us. Soon, she fell into step, continuing alongside with her attention focused on her dangling leash.

Rounding a corner of the clearing, Chris looked at me mischievously. Before I could react, he started running toward the campsite.

With thundering steps, Remy took off after him, her stalwart body low to the ground as she ran. I laughed as I watched her fly across the field, panting and snorting with abandon. Soon, she overtook Chris, continuing to zoom past him, her steps only slowing to change course and run in another direction.

Watching her run, I felt something swell within my chest, a sense of belonging and acceptance. In that moment, I was acutely aware of the love I felt for Remy, the love of someone I never want to be without. Just then, she was family.

It was not long before her energy reserves ran empty and she slowed to a trot. Falling into step with us, we walked together back to the camper, still chuckling from what we had just witnessed. The sun continued to fall behind the horizon as we set up a campfire and settled in to enjoy the peaceful night. Remy collapsed onto her bed with a grunt, still free of the restraint of her leash. In only a few minutes, her soft breaths turned into rattling snores.

For the rest of the weekend, Remy continued to explore, experiencing the sights and smells of the outside world unavailable at home. Free of her leash, she was able to enjoy herself freely as I had never seen, without any desire to run away or escape. As we packed up the campsite to head back home, I remembered that moment on the walk when we first arrived. Smiling, I scratched Remy’s head and beckoned her into the car.

I could not wait to come back.