A Country Mile: Under the Bridge

It was a humid August day with not a cloud in the sky.

“It is hot!” said Monica, a teenage girl from the city. “Monty, can we go swimming? I brought my bathing suit.”   

“Sure!” said Monty, a tall, country boy, one of her friends from high school. “Bring your straw hat though!” Monty was excited about spending time with Monica. He knew that going for a swim would be perfect on a hot day. “For that, I would walk a country mile!” 

“What’s a country mile, Monty?” she asked, several minutes later, as they walked hand-in-hand down the dusty gravel road and up a long hill. “A mile is a mile. That’s five thousand, two hundred and eighty feet, right?”

“Right.”

“How far is it?” Monica asked, after they had walked up a second hill.

“It’s a ways yet,” replied Monty. “It’s nice to spend time together.”

“We must have walked at least a mile, Monty,” said Monica, a while later. She was not used to walking on gravel and stones. “Can we rest?”

“Sure! Let’s go sit under the bridge and soak our feet,” he replied, smiling at her. The place where they would go for a swim was still another mile further. Monty helped Monica climb down the sharp rocks. They splashed cool, fresh water on their faces. Then, Monty took off his shirt and spread it out on a large rock.

“That was sweet, of you!” she said, with surprise. “Thank you.”

“It is cooler here,” he said. “Feel better?”

“Much.”

Now, Monty was getting nervous. His hands felt cold and clammy, as he reached into his back pocket for something and clutched it tight. “Monica,” he said. “There is something I have wanted to ask you for a long time.” He took her hand gently and placed a black diamond ring, on her finger. “Would you go steady with me?” 

“This country mile was longer than I expected,” Monica told him later, as she admired her ring. “But, I am glad we decided to go swimming.”