Views of the Hill

Charles was alone, he had been alone for a long time. After the hard winter of ‘14 he had cut himself off from the world. The small field where the crops grew was a wasteland of white. Though he had prepared for a normal winter, nothing could have prepared him for the torrent of ice and snow that had come, deciding to become a permanent guest at the farm. A five month winter might of well have been five decades though, for all he had lost it felt as though a lifetime had passed.

For two of those five months, Charles had to live with Betty sitting right outside their door in her favorite rocking chair. He had tried to dig her a respectable resting place immediately after her rapid descent from a vibrant woman to the husk of a woman that she had become. The frozen earth had proven too stubborn to create even a shallow grave for his sweet bride. Not until that summer had he realized that it was a blessing that it was so cold outside that nature had preserved her body on the porch. Though this was no solace in his mind, knowing that every time he needed wood for the stove he would see her there, in her favorite chair next to his on the porch somehow always rocking. Shortly after he was able to lay Betty to rest on the crest of the hill near the home, he had to finally venture into town.

As soon as he got to town all of the people that Betty had grown close to rushed to him as he pulled up to the General Store. Their questions had been flurried and rushed, though all of them resembled the last. “How did you possibly survive that white nightmare?” and the one that made him stop in his tracks, “Where is Betty? Why didn’t she come with you?”. He had just stood there, trying to fight back the emotions as that questions sunk in. He pushed on, gathered what he had come for and headed home without saying a single word to anyone. The small crowd had continued to berate him as he gathered what he needed, filled his cart and even as he rode away. The whispers began before he even pulled out of earshot.

That had been over ten years ago now. He spent every morning the same way now, crawl out of his side of the bed, feeling his aging body cracking and protesting every morning with more zeal than the last. The he would spend untold amounts of time sitting in his small chair next to his bed looking out of the back window of his cabin, which had a perfect view of the memorial that marked her grave. He would spend hours hoping, praying and straining his mind to see her smile just one more time. That it would finally be his time to leave this drab, sad place he had come to resent and see his wife again. That particular morning though a small light shimmered around the hill, grave and memorial. It shimmered, bounced and swayed around, dragging his eye away from his time staring at the memorial. He seemed to be mesmerized by this little light. His mind started to throw out fantastic thoughts. Possibly his Angels had come and that they were going to take him to see Betty again. He found himself walking up the hill toward the shimmering light, entranced by how it moved around.

As he approached the light though, he noticed that he cast a shadow when he walked through it. Charles was no fool, his mind had always been sharp. He looked for where the light source for this glimmering light could be coming from and found it almost immediately. The old barn had a few tools left from when the farm was more functional. A simple scythe that they used to clear brush with hung just inside the doors, which were open wide enough now for the light to reflect off of the tool. Charles had stopped looking at this barn years ago. After he had cleared out the remains of what little livestock Betty and he shared after that brutal winter, Charles had shut the doors and never opened them again. Losing the livestock Betty and he had raised on top of losing Betty herself was the final push that made the pieces of his mind separate from the world. All he could do now was wait to see Betty again, he would close himself off as he did in town. Stay away from people, stay away from things like the barn that housed those final memories of the winter that destroyed his life. He had locked those doors years ago and never looked again. Laying his eyes upon the building now, he could not fathom how these doors had managed to open and grab his attention.

As Charles looked at that Scythe, the memories of their first year on the farm came rushing into his mind’s eye. He could see himself wielding that very tool, slashing at the brush that they slowly turned into the fields that they would survive off of for years to come. The vision of working side by side with Betty alive in his mind. Working hard to create a life for themselves here on this land. He could see Betty laughing at him, her beautiful smile shining brighter than the spring sun in his eyes. Her laughter as he learned how to use the tool, poorly hacking away as he learned the techniques of the blade. The way that they pulled weeds side by side, cleared the plots for the vegetables, plowed the land and one by one and planted the vegetables that would come to feed them and enable them to grow their little piece of dirt into a home. These memories he had not thought of in so long that he had forgotten they existed. He had told himself years ago that the pain that came with each memory of his wife’s face just caused too much pain, so he learned as he had with the townsfolk, to just ignore. The simple thought that she was there at the end of his line would have to be enough. The feeling though, which he was terrified would consume him in sadness, now felt warm in his chest. Warm tears running down his cheeks as a smile curved across his face.

He found himself walking towards the barn now, surprising himself with each step. It had seemed to him for years now that an unconscious barrier existed that kept him away. Though now he started to realize it was fear, fear of the memories causing him to relive any part of those feelings from ten years ago. With every step he could discern more detail of the barns doors, as if clearing a fog. The memories again flooding his mind’s eye of the day that Betty and he had put the final touches on the barn that had taken them so much work. They had no help, so building the barn had been an experience unlike anything either had been through before. Every log in place, every panel nailed down was a step towards completing their lives together. It was an unspoken pact between them that this barn represented their love and their life together. It was hard, it took work and determination, but the care and effort were all worth it because if they did it right their love and their barn would stand for all of their lives. The little mark on the door was a damaged nail. The very last nail in completing the barn. Betty had been determined to complete the very last nail, so Charles had helped her through the process. In the end Betty had managed to fail so badly that the nail had gone in at an angle and left a big gash in the wood. They had decided to leave it just like that, to remind them of everything they had been through. Charles again felt his chest warming with the memories of his beloved filling him with long forgotten feeling of content.

He at last found himself looking at the row of tools that hung neatly on the wall inside the barn. The Scythe, the hoe, the seeder and the shovel. His heart skipped a beat, threatening to retreat again. He endured though, now emboldened with the memories of their life together fresh in his mind’s eye. He stared at the shovel, the last time he had used it was the day he had buried Betty on the hill. Though other memories began to flood his mind at the thought of her final resting place. When they bought their first tool together for the farm, that very shovel. The time that they dug their first fence post, neither of them knowing how deep to go. He laughed at how the fence kept falling over. That shovel was more than a tool, but a memory of every moment that they had together using it. Now it was so many memories that he could not focus on just one.

He realized that he had been out for a very long time and decided to go inside to continue on his daily routine. Though as he stepped around the barn door to head back to his home, with a warmth he had not felt since he was close to his wife so many years ago, he realized that something was very different about the day. He realized that the day had turned to twilight, as the sky was now beautiful shades of orange, pink and yellow. He looked to where he thought the sun would be setting and lost his breath. He realized that the warmth he felt was not just a memory of how it was to be with Betty. He realized he felt that warmth because there, on the hill next to the memorial was Betty looking down at him. Just as beautiful as she had been all those years ago, every fiber of his being feeling the draw to her warmth. She was standing there, her smile soft and sweet, their eyes locked and her hand stretched out toward him.

Charles felt his old bones walking toward her, the warmth in his body growing with every step, like her smile was warmth itself. As he got close to her he reached up, expecting that it must be some dream and he would wake at any moment, but when he went to grab her hand their fingers entwined together. Charles looked into her eyes, neither of them saying a word. They turned to look at the sunset together, as if unspoken words between them had guided them to look onto the spectacular sunset at the same instant. Charles was complete again, he felt it in every muscle, every bone, every fiber of his being was happy again. Allowing those memories to flood into him, seeing Betty now, it was clear this was right. He began to turn to say something, but Betty began to walk forward, smiling and still grasping his hand. Charles held on effortlessly as he began to walk beside her, not knowing exactly where they were walking, but he knew it was right.

Though Charles was positioned perfectly to see, he could not any longer. He sat in his chair next to his bed, the view of the hill clear and bright, and the grave marker in perfect sight. Even this perfect view would not allow him to witness him and his wife walking toward the sunset. His eyes had closed now, his tired bones coming to rest. His heart though had finally warmed from the cold of that winter from all those years ago, just as the final beats marked the end of his wait to see his wife.