I'm journeying somewhere by bike. My way is blocked at one point by a woman leading a donkey and cart. I stop and get off the bike, which I store in the barn,and follow the woman in what is either a house or a store. I do not remember what happens there, but when I continue my journey, I leave the bike and am suddenly in a car. I'm in the middle of the back seat with Loretta, Kris, baby Nathaniel and my mother. Jeff is driving and Christina is in the front seat.
We're driving down country highways towards a mountain. As we grow near, Loretta suddenly needs to make a pit stop. Jeff slows and begins to pull over and Loretta throws open the cardoor before we even roll to a stop.
"What are you doing?" I call. "Wait until the car stops! We're almost there."
"I can't, I gotta go NOW," she says and leaps out.
Shortly after, we reach the base of the mountain. We can see it before us, the road rising and dipping its way to the top. It looks so large and immense that I am frightened and do not want to drive up to the top.
My mother reassures me. It's okay, she says, except for the part where there is only 3 inches clearence. Does she mean clearence between the road and the drop off from the mountain? I sputter and try to phrase my question, but then suddenly we are at our destination. We park and have to walk the last bit. My mother and I carry shovels because we're hunting relics. A stranger is walking down from the peak and we try to look nonchalant with our gear because we are sure it's against the rules to dig up things on park land. Then we see that the stranger has a shovel too and stop worrying about it.
We get up to the top and there is a cabin there. It's a historic building and I ask whether it was built on this peak or moved here recently. No one answers. We are inside and there is a large window overlooking the view off the top of the mountain. In my perifiphial vision I can see the sunlight coming through the window, but do not hurry to look out it. I know that the view is going to be absolutely immense and it fills me with vertigo, much as the sight of this large mountain did.
Before I can work up the nerve to look, I am distracted by my mother coming in the cabin and immediately laying down on the floor. She's out of breath and exhausted from the hike up the last part with the shovels.
"I think I've rounded a bend," she says. "That will propably be the last time I do a hike like that. I can't do it anymore."
Now my brother is there too and he's opening a refrigerator and getting ice for her. We both work to help her cool down and catch her breath.
We're driving down country highways towards a mountain. As we grow near, Loretta suddenly needs to make a pit stop. Jeff slows and begins to pull over and Loretta throws open the cardoor before we even roll to a stop.
"What are you doing?" I call. "Wait until the car stops! We're almost there."
"I can't, I gotta go NOW," she says and leaps out.
Shortly after, we reach the base of the mountain. We can see it before us, the road rising and dipping its way to the top. It looks so large and immense that I am frightened and do not want to drive up to the top.
My mother reassures me. It's okay, she says, except for the part where there is only 3 inches clearence. Does she mean clearence between the road and the drop off from the mountain? I sputter and try to phrase my question, but then suddenly we are at our destination. We park and have to walk the last bit. My mother and I carry shovels because we're hunting relics. A stranger is walking down from the peak and we try to look nonchalant with our gear because we are sure it's against the rules to dig up things on park land. Then we see that the stranger has a shovel too and stop worrying about it.
We get up to the top and there is a cabin there. It's a historic building and I ask whether it was built on this peak or moved here recently. No one answers. We are inside and there is a large window overlooking the view off the top of the mountain. In my perifiphial vision I can see the sunlight coming through the window, but do not hurry to look out it. I know that the view is going to be absolutely immense and it fills me with vertigo, much as the sight of this large mountain did.
Before I can work up the nerve to look, I am distracted by my mother coming in the cabin and immediately laying down on the floor. She's out of breath and exhausted from the hike up the last part with the shovels.
"I think I've rounded a bend," she says. "That will propably be the last time I do a hike like that. I can't do it anymore."
Now my brother is there too and he's opening a refrigerator and getting ice for her. We both work to help her cool down and catch her breath.
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