The afternoon sun hung low in the sky. As Emily peered out of the car window, her hazel eyes wide as they traced the slow shifting scenery outside. The tall, glimmering skyscrapers of the city, the noisy streets she had known her entire life, slowly faded into the background. In its place rose wide, rolling hills, sprawling fields of lush green, and a few scattered farmhouses with their old barns and rusted silos. Each mile seemed to take her farther away from everything she'd ever known.
Emily's brown hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, and as the car gently bumped along the road, she nervously twirled a lock between her fingers. She's always felt at home in the fast-paced energy of the city, where everything is bright and bustling. Now, all she could hear was the hum of the engine and the gentle rush of wind outside her window. The countryside felt odd, like stepping into a completely different world—one she wasn't sure she was ready to be part of.
"It's so... open," Emily's thoughts escaped her lips, her voice tinged with awe as she glanced out the window.
"It's a lot different from the city, isn't it? But don't worry," her aunt added, her voice warm and reassuring, "you'll get used to it. It just takes a little time."
Emily glanced over at Aunt Mary as she drove. Like Emily, brown hair gently framed her face in loose waves, but Aunt Mary's had streaks of sun-kissed highlights, giving her a certain look, that of someone who spent plenty of time outdoors. Her skin was lightly tanned from working on the farm and her love of hunting trips, gave her a healthy, rugged glow in the sunlight, highlighting her high cheekbones with a slight upturned nose they both shared.
As Mary gripped the steering wheel, her long fingers tapped lightly to a rhythm only she could hear, a sign of her calm and easygoing nature. The gentle breeze from the open window tousled her hair, making her look carefree and grounded, the perfect blend of city charm and country wisdom.
"Used to it," Emily nodded but wasn't entirely convinced. A tiny knot of anxiety tightened in her chest. At thirteen, she never thought of spending a summer on a farm. She loved the city—the rush of people, bright lights, and constant noise. There was always something happening in the city, and she liked being in the middle of it all. Here, in the quiet countryside, it feels as if time slows to a crawl, and everything was so far apart. She wasn't even sure where the nearest store or outdoor mall was. And what about take-out? Do they deliver pizza this far out into the country?
As they turned down a driveway, Emily's eyes widened. The farmhouse stood proudly at the far end, with white paint peeling in places and green shutters framing the windows. A large, weathered red barn loomed behind it, its large doors slightly ajar, revealing hay bales and farming equipment. A few cows grazed in the fields, their tails flicking away pesky flies, and the scent of earth, grass, and wildflowers filled the air.
"Here it is! This is where you will be spending the summer," Mary said, pulling up to the quaint, white farmhouse with green shutters and a wrap-around porch.
Taking a deep breath, Emily tried to drive out the butterflies that now called her stomach home. The farmhouse. The birds and cows in the fields. Sounds and smells bombarding her senses. It felt so overwhelming.
"It's... charming," Emily said, the words feeling foreign on her tongue. Her smile awkward as she slowly stepped out of the car.
Just then, a booming voice interrupted them. "Welcome!" John's hearty laughter rang out as he appeared from around the corner of the barn. His sturdy frame, wrapped in a fit, worn shirt, looked every bit the farmer. His jeans were faded, and his boots scuffed from years of work, but his face was warm and full of joy.
Before she could even respond, John scooped her into a bear hug, lifting her feet off the ground. "We've been waiting for you, city girl!"
"Uncle John!" She giggled, struggling to catch her breath. She had always loved his hugs, though she could never quite match his strength. When he finally set her down, Emily smoothed out her wrinkled shirt, still smiling. It was comforting to see him again.
"Let's get you inside," Aunt Mary suggested.
"I'll grab your bags," Uncle John said, rushing to the car with a playful wink.
Emily followed Mary into the farmhouse, the screen door squeaking as it closed behind them. The aroma of freshly baked bread hit her as she stepped inside. It wrapped around her like a warm blanket. The house was cozy, with its mismatched furniture and lived-in feel. Photos of family hung on the walls, and there was a large sofa that looked so soft it was practically begging her to sink into it. Everything felt old-fashioned, but in a way that made the house seem welcoming.
Emily wandered into the living room, trying to get her bearings. She fidgeted with her fingers and hands, unsure of what to do with them. The city—her city—felt a world away.
"Are you excited to be here?" Aunt Mary asked gently, pouring a glass of lemonade and handing it to Emily.
Emily hesitated, gripping the glass tightly. "It's nice," she said, taking a sip. The lemonade, sweet and tart, did little to ease the knot in her stomach. She missed the hum of busy traffic and the distant sounds of sirens—the soundtrack of her life. "I'm just... not used to all this quiet."