Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: MOUNTAIN (07/02/20)
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TITLE: Wild Bill | Previous Challenge Entry
By Holly Short
07/08/20 -
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I squint and follow my son’s outstretched finger to its next destination.
“And that’s the roof of a house tucked into the pine trees.”
My cheek presses into the prickles of his summer buzz cut as I dip my head lower to line up my vision with his next unspoken question.
“And that is a farm sitting right at the base of the mountain. Do you think another little boy might be inside sitting on his mama’s lap looking out their window at us?”
He nods and nestles in closer, knees bent with ten little piggies resting on my thigh.
We do this every morning. Before words and wants fill the day we sit at the round pedestal table and watch the mountain filling our dining room window. The marshlands between us and Wild Bill almost guarantee another hundred years of unobstructed view.
I make up stories about the family that settled here and built our home more than a century ago. We peer out the over-sized panes, marveling at the morning mist dressing the mountain like a skirt. My son asks me if Jesus has any bones in his body up in heaven, which cloud does He live on, and other smile-inducing, breath-catching questions. I wish my memory had the capacity for more because no picture, no diary, nothing, can replicate the right now.
He asks if he can climb the mountain. I say, “Yes, you can. We’ll go with Daddy.” And I think about the mountains he really will climb, the ones he won’t, the ones he shouldn’t, and I pray to God to direct his steps.
“Son, God will give you feet like a deer, He will set you secure on the high places.”1
In the quiet dawning my coffee cools. I watch the sun spread its blanket up and over Wild Bill, inviting my boy out to play. He slips through my encircling arms, slides down my lap, and I let him go.
1 Psalm 18:33 ESV with author's paraphrase
This is a work of nonfiction.
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