The Impostor, A Love Story by Tiffany Carmouche Page B

stimulated,
awakening in me things I hadn’t felt for a long time.
    The gentle breeze through
the trees seemed to whisper and gently caressed my hair. I just
sat, as we made our way up the mountain, listening to the sounds of
nature. The steady strike of hooves as they hit the dirt began the
symphony with a drumbeat. A choir of songbirds filled the air with
music. And the breeze became the cello, adding an underlying
warmth, transporting me into a world of my own—like my dad’s
classical music did while growing up.
    I let go of my nagging thoughts and relaxed
into the moment. I wanted to close my eyes, but I didn’t dare. I
didn’t want to fall off the horse (that would have been a bad
thing), but mostly, I realized, I didn’t want to
miss a minute of it. There is nothing quite like the Alaskan
mountains. The breaks in the trees unveiled the snow-covered
mountain tops. Could anything be so
beautiful ?
    As sunlight danced in a
rainbow of amber, a warmth came over me. I remembered how it felt
to bring color to an empty canvas. A smile emerged from within. As the air filled my lungs, I realized
there were no signs of impurities. I breathed the pure
air.
    Emily and I trotted behind
Chris, taking in the view. After a while, the trail started going
steeply downhill. My instincts told me to lean forward and
hold on with all my might.
    “You want to lean back,” Chris corrected.
“If you lean forward, you will fall right off the horse, and then
he will trample you.”
    Oh, how
wonderful . That didn’t sound like
something that would fit into my perfect day.
    I made a conscious decision not to look down
anymore. I could feel myself sliding toward the front end of the
horse. I knew I had to release my death grasp, and apprehensively,
I slowly leaned back until I was almost lying on the horse. My feet
in the stirrups felt as if they were standing.
    I could feel every muscle
in my abs scream as I lay backward, simulating a stomach crunch as
we made the ninety-degree drop. Okay, so it wasn’t ninety degrees,
but that sucker was steep. Whispering a silent prayer like HELP ! on the inside, I tried to remain calm, cool, and
collected on the outside. I held on tight, convinced my smooth
composure camouflaged my fear until I realized my yelps and
horrified shit comments may have given me
away.
    As we got to the end of the
drop, I breathed that same refreshing Alaskan air, yet this time
with even more appreciation. I almost
died, but I am alive. I am breathing. I am
breathing ! Yes! Okay, maybe it was more like
panting, but oh, how wonderful to be sitting upright on a horse
again.
    “Oh, my god.” I could hear Emily behind
me.
    I stared ahead. “Oh my god, it’s beautiful!”
I joined in her awe. We brought our horses to the river. Emily,
Chris, and I stood in paradise, captivated. The sanctuary was our
own.
    The river stretched as far
as the eye could see. Hovering above, a mountain range caressed
the river’s edge and sprouted all the way to infinity. The
trees—a sprinkling of vibrant colors—not only
graced the mountainside, but their mirror-like reflection was
utterly perfect in the river below.
    Every amber branch, every
sunset tree, every ruby leaf was painted as clear in the water’s r eflection as illustrated in the mountain
leaning over it. Colors for as far as the eyes could see, I just
sat there on this thousand-pound beauty, taking it all
in.
    “You all hungry?” Chris
asked. He jumped off his horse with such ease, it seemed
choreographed. He started rummaging in a little pack he had on the
back of the horse. “I brought us something to eat.” He began
pulling things out of the pack like a Mary Poppin’s sack .
    A bottle of wine, cheese
and crackers, and all sorts of goodies were in his magical bag. The
bundle, actually a blanket rolled up in a strategic way, became a
picnic blanket for the three of us . We dined, the
masterpiece our backdrop as we drank wine,
laughing and soaking up the magic. Chris made a