Place of Memories

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

It had been three years since her grandfather died, but she still kept coming back here. Why she didn't know. Yet it was all she wanted to know. Why would she keep coming back here, to this place of memories?

 

Place of Memories

 

 

She wasn't sure why she kept coming up here. What was the point, anymore? The walk was long and hard, the climb even more so.

 

A heavy sigh escaped her as she sank onto the closest rock. Wrapping her blanket tightly around her shoulders, the young woman gazed out over the sweeping valley below, her expression forlorn.

 

Perhaps it was habit that kept her coming to the same spot every year. Perhaps it was because she had nothing better to do. Perhaps, perhaps...

 

There was no use wondering. It was as pointless as the climb, wasn't it? What point was there to come back to this place? This place that held so many memories...

 

She could see it all now, in her mind's eye. Memories of when she was young and climbing this very canyon with her grandfather. She remembered, so clearly, the way he made the arduous trek seem more than it was. How he would take her by the hand and lovingly guide her around rocks and pits when she was small. How he would pick her up with a hearty laugh whenever she stumbled and fell, swinging her up into the air as she laughed with him, scrapes forgotten.

 

A wet laugh escapes her now, as she remembered those simpler times. Those easier times. Smiling slightly, she gazed around herself, almost expecting her grandfather to be laughing with her–

 

Her smile fell quickly as she also remembered that she was alone in the canyon. Her grandfather was not with her. There would be no more of those simpler times, those easier times. There would be no more warm hands guiding her to the summit. No more laughter and swinging and smiles

 

A choked sob burst from her chest, replacing her previous brief happiness with loss. Her head bowed with the weight of her grief, her arms wrapped around her midsection as her eyes squeezed shut.

 

The wind blew across the valley, gently tugging at her hair and clothes. She held tighter to her blanket as the wind brought the scent of wildflowers and earth.

 

Why did she keep coming here? Why did she keep coming to his place? This place of memories and grief?

 

The wind shuffled around her, the scent of wildflowers and earth fills the air. Tears fell from pained eyes and down cheeks flushed with grief.

 

Why did she come here every year, as though nothing had happened? As though her grandfather was still alive? Three years since that day. Three years and she still couldn't bring herself to not return to this valley.

 

Why, why, why... that was all she could ask, all she'd been asking for three years. There were no other questions to her. No hows or whens or wheres or whos. Just... why?

 

The wind brushed her cheek almost lovingly, managing to bring the smile back to her face. It reminded her of those simpler times she missed. When her grandfather would wipe away her tears when the scrapes were too much. How he'd pat her cheek, eyes alight with love.

 

Her grandfather, who brought her here, every year, where he gave her so many good memories.

 

Perhaps... perhaps that was why? Perhaps it was the good memories she had of this place that brought her back every year?

 

Slowly, she unfurled from her hunched position as the wind ruffled her hair. She could almost imagine her grandfather standing beside her, giving her that proud grin of his as he messed up her hair once more.

 

The smile returned slowly, shakily.

 

Yes, that must be it. That must be why she kept coming here.

 

Something inside her settled for the first time in three years as she sat up to look over the valley below. Her gaze was no longer pained, and as she reached up to wipe away her tears, she made a promise to herself.

 

She would keep coming here, to this place of memories. Every year, so long as she could. She would keep these memories of simpler, easier times with her grandfather alive.

 

Fixing the blanket around herself once more, she rested among the rocks. Eyes red from tears, but gaze peaceful, she allowed those memories she had of this place – of her beloved grandfather – to cross her mind.

 

And as the wind ebbed and flowed around her, she allowed herself, for the first time in three years, to truly breathe.


Submitted: July 16, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Kristen Blakey. All rights reserved.

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