The Hill behind my house.
Author's Note: I used the hill as a theme to denote the long-sufferings of
the lady and how she moved on. She could have paused or stopped in her climb
but she went on. She wanted to better herself after the release of her previous
bond. She is a fighter and as the hill, it's a solitary warrior against the
oncoming development. Both are dying in their ways, but both find a purpose to
be there.
Living is using all your senses to enjoy the moments of it, even though it
could be brief.
Contests rules:
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It's not often I
get to take walks but I made it an exception today. I got up this morning and
decided to do it to the hill at the back of the house. It's not a high place
but there are the steps that I need to mount. It's the only piece of the land
which they have not put in any concrete slabs into the ground; well not yet, so
I might as well enjoyed it before they do. I would probably be in the ground
before they do them here but I am not taking my chance. As I have said, this
occasion is a rare one to me. I have been sheltering myself within the four
walls of my house with most times in the kitchen and the bedroom. I hardly
ventured out from there unless it's Sunday to the church. Those were my only
luxuries then but now I am a free bird again. Yes, I hear you up there, you
rascal. Like the birds, I was a free bonny who would run the place and more so
up and down his hill daily. I was then until eighteen before I got married and
now after fifty years I am back to when I was eighteen. Funny how we older
folks tend to repeat ourselves; it must be the need to be reminded before we
forget ourselves.
I see those steps
and I was told they numbered three hundred and nine to the top. Bloody use at
that number at my age but if I have been pacing my twenty-five by eighty feet
house more than a dozen times a day for that last fifty years, I am sure I can
mount up those damn steps. I will be blessed as I may get to see more of this
blasted place again beside the view from my windows before. It would be more
than I have seen in the last years of the blasted Sean who still harbors his
lust for me. Darned it, that must have been over sixty years when I allowed him
to kissed me on my lips and that fool still thinks he would marry me in his
blasted lifetime. By golly, he never moves from his family house next to ours
and keeps on looking over the hedges into my yard when I am drying the clothes.
I once shower him with my washing water but nothing seems to dampen his mood. I
would say I should have married him but those days, it was not my decision but
mom and pop's. Be heck with him, I am past my prime and he can wank his fantasy
on my tombstone for all I care. Mary Anne, you sordid old lady; still thinking
about those days. You got some steps to climb up there and clear your mind of
those thoughts or Father Seamus would be pale-looking when he walked out of the
confession booth.
Yes, the hill I am
to climb; by golly, it looks rather big from this view. Maybe I ought to turn
back and be that old frail lady than to die on the steps like a silly old hag
trying to be a young jogger.
No, I would not
turn back to my old life; I already spent fifty of my life years there. I am
climbing up these steps again like when I was eighteen. I took my step and laid
my hand on the wooden railings. It still feels cold and clammy like in the old
days but then I had another warmer hand to pulled me up. That was how much I
remember my dad as we used to climb up here when I was a kid. But not anymore
as he's long gone. I felt the gravel stones on the steps below my leather-covered
shoes but they are looser than before. I guess it must be from the running of
those young joggers; they never did wipe their feet below before they mount the
steps. We used to do that years ago, and that is probably what kept these steps
still looking pristine for so many years.
Let's do it, Mary
Anne; you old haggard. Yes, that's me now but I was Mary Anne the Light One
then; me running upon the steps like a mountain goat. I was so strong and agile
than now but now I am all solidified into a bent frame that they would probably
straighten for my coffin when the time comes. I see the old oak tree still at the
base of the hill. I stepped off the steps and walked towards the tree. I laid
my hand on its trunk and looked for the particular spot on its bark. Oh my
goodness, they have scarred the bark so much since then with those etchings,
but here is mine. It said; "September 18th, 1961". Yes, it's still
there as I can feel it as if it was that evening when I etched those words on
it.
"Sorry, Mr.Oak.
I thought it was to be my happiest day, but to be honest it was the day I
became a slave. But today I am free of that oath and be gone to hell with those
years. I thought I ought to apologies to you as you was the first I had told
then and now I am telling you first of my liberty." I took my leave of the
oak tree and walked to the steps again. Okay, it's doing it or be gone with my
desire once and for all. I took the steps up one at a time and rested at every
twenty or was it fifteen but who is counting then. Every time I rested on the
steps, I get to view the place ever again like it was fifty years ago. But now
I get to see is more houses and roads when those days they were scattered homes
with smoking chimneys. The smell of the air then was roasts and bakes but today,
it awful smell of God fearing fumes. Maybe if I go up more I might get to smell
the clear hill trees forest air more.
Mary Anne, you
done two hundred steps and nine steps. If you are thinking of quiting now, think
again as its double that amount to go down to than to reach the top with half
the number. But the smell here is better and the view is further but I would
say is never the same as before. Even the trees up here are scarce and the
thick undergrowth more or less gone. Those days I could take a nature call up
here and nobody would had noticed. Its not that I needed one now but I had on
my diapers which would probably took up the constant leaks. It won't dampen the
air here with its smell but what I am smelling up here would not be a difference
if I am on the road.
Mary Anne, its a
third of the way so let's get it done with or you would put the Highlands to
shame if you quit now. Think of the young dashing men up there with the kilts
and dirks, and the pipers playing "Blue Bonnets Over the Border".
Come from the
hills where your hirsels are grazing,
Come from the glen
of the buck and the roe;
Come to the crag
where the beacon is blazing,
Come with the
buckler, the lance, and the bow.
Trumpets are
sounding,
War-steeds are
bounding,
Stand to your arms
then, and march in good order;
England shall many
a day
Tell of the bloody
fray,
When the Blue
Bonnets came over the Border.
( "Blue
Bonnets Over the Border".Sir Walter Scott was steeped in the history of
the Scottish Border country where he lived for a large part of his life. Here
is one of his rousing, Border marching songs.' )
I hummed to myself
as I mount the last hundred steps. Its an achievement for me but one I would
say much came from my Highlands spirits to never give up. I stood up there and
now I can see beyond the stacks of houses to the rolling hills and dipping
valleys. Its a sight of an eighteen years girl then full with inspiration to
faced the coming life. I used to say to myself 'come what may, nothing shall me
back down from my dream.' Today I had that dream to mount up this hill again
despite my age, pain and a missing leg. But before I can conclude the trip, I
need to do one more thing. I reached for the nearby overhanging chestnut tree
and pulled at its leaves. I took one of the leaves and placed it on my tongue.
I could taste the acrid smell on the leaf but I am not really going to eat that
green. I just want to blow it between my lips to hear the hymn again. But I
failed to do so as it may be the wrong tree I think or my lungs are not as
before.
Nevertheless, I am
standing on top of the hill and free of my previous bonds. I am a free woman
today standing on top of a hill admiring what was mine to admire fifty years
ago. I chanced down the steps to see the perverted old man trying to make his
way up.
"Sean Magnus,
you perverted sicko. How dare you climbed up behind me and tries to peek under
my skirt. I would had you charged with outrage of modesty." But you ought
to admire his patience and true devotion after over fifty years, he still loves
me still. Maybe he deserved a second chance. After all in life, not many gets a
second chance. More to it, he was a great kisser.
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