Above her is a vivid blue sky, spotted with thin, trailing, white clouds.
Far into the distance is a mountain. Tall, strong, and majestic, the purplish rocks look slightly menacing, and very powerful.
The valley below her is green and lush. Further into the valley is a forest, dark, thick, and frightening.
She sits there, fingering the grass around her knees, the slight breeze playing with her hair. She watches as small creatures, birds, squirrels, groundhogs and the like, run about in the valley, busy with their lives.
She wonders if they, like her, want to reach the top of the mountain. She lifts her eyes and stares up at the beautiful mountain peaks, and daydreams about what it must be like up there. She wants to get up there, but she knows it's going to be hard, and she will have to leave behind the grassy little hill that she now sits on.
Not that the grassy hill is particularly comfortable, but it's what she's used to. Ants crawl over her feet sometimes, and that makes her uncomfortable. The grass irritates her skin sometimes, and she doesn't like that. Speaking of her feet, she can't really feel them anyway, because she's been sitting on them for so long.
She's waiting. Waiting for someone who had passed through once. He had stopped to talk to her for a little while, and she found that she enjoyed his company. So he sat with her on the grassy hill for a little while, pointing out the stars to her, telling her of his adventures while traveling, painting a picture for her of the beautiful things out there. In his tales though, quite often darkness would slip in. At first she was shocked, but gradually, the darkness just added to the allure of the traveler.
But after he had been there for so long, and she had gotten used to him, he had seen somewhere else in the distance. She had seen it to. A glimmer, sparkling and shining on another hill, far off to her left. She never went over to that hill, she had no desire to.
But the sparkling completely captured his attention. One day, she watched him walk away from her grassy hill to go and find the sparkling thing on the other hill. She convinced herself that he would be coming back soon, after he discovered that the sparkling wasn't what he expected. She knew, it was probably only the dew, catching the rays of the sun, and that soon it would evaporate. But she would still be there, waiting for the traveler to come back. After all, why wouldn't he? She was much more interesting than a drop of dew.
Occasionally the traveler would wave at her from the other hill, and she would wave back. She would pace back and forth, excited that he had remembered her, and so she would wait for him. But each time he waved at her, he seemed to be a little bit farther away from her hill.
After a while, she started to hate the traveler. He got her so excited so often, every time he waved at her. So she decided not to wave back one day.
But no matter what she did, she could still see him waving at her out of the corner of her eye. She didn't want to turn her back completely, because she didn't want him to think that she didn't care. But one day, she did. And when she looked back over her shoulder, he didn't wave at her anymore. She eventually stops pacing and sinks down into the grass.
Now she sits on her feet on the grassy hill. She can still see him, sometimes, out of the corner of her eye. He isn't exactly waving anymore, but his movement catches her eye.
It hurts her, to see him moving. She hates that she can still see him. She doesn't hate him anymore, she's too tired to keep a hatred burning inside her. She wasn't built for hatred.
She sits there, watching the wind blow through the grass in the valley, thinking about how beautiful it all is.
She knows she can't sit here on her numb feet forever, seeing the traveler moving around in the corner of her eye. It's making her tired and ill. She stares at the mountain, longing to be up there. She wishes she could just be there, without any of the hard work of climbing the mountain.
It takes her a long time of sitting there, thinking about the journey.
Soon, she can't take it any more. She glances one more time at the traveler, wishing that he would look her way. She wonders for a moment if he thinks about her, wishes that she had gone with him. For a second, her determination falters, and she wants to run across the hill over to where he is standing. But then she remembers, it was him who hadn't realized what he could have had and got distracted with the sparkling dew.
So she stands up. The pain in her legs is excruciating, because she had been sitting there so long. She almost sinks back down. Even though the grassy hill isn't where she wants to be, it is more comfortable than the pain in her legs.
She faces the mountain. Everything between her and it suddenly look much less inviting. She hears the traveler laughing with someone else on another hill. Feeling finally reaches her toes and she takes a timid step forward.
As her foot touches the ground, tiny pinpricks shoot up her leg, making her wince. Her determination is faltering, and she hasn't even taken more than one step. She knows it's going to take a lot more determination to make it up the mountain than what she has.
She looks around, searching for something to aide her as she heads down the hill. A long, slender, white stick lays not far from her. She hobbles towards it, and picks it up.
The wood feels sleek and cool in her hand as she uses it to lean on. Although it seems small, and insignificant, it holds her up without bending.
She starts down the hill. With each step, she regains more and more feeling in her feet, until they don't hurt anymore. She's tired, but she's not hurting anymore.
The hill isn't as tall as she thinks, and before too long she reaches the valley. The smells in the valley are strange to her. They're all very refreshing, but strange. The sun can't reach the valley like it had the hill. A chill creeps over her skin, and she wants to run back up to her hill, where she knows the sun will make her warm and comfortable. But she restrains herself and presses forward, towards the forest.
Now that she is in the valley, the forest doesn't look so dark and menacing. It's not long until she reaches the first few trees. The smell of pine and cherry tickle her nose, their sweet scent tempting her in further. She still holds the staff tightly in her hand, leaning on it when she starts to falter.
The slippery, soft pine needles beneath her feet are a new and welcome sensation to her. She's used to only the grassy hill touching her.
She wanders through the forest for a time, taking in the sights, enjoying each fragrant breath. While there, she finds herself meeting other travelers. They too are on a journey, although perhaps not headed in the same direction. Some of the other travelers, she finds herself drawn too. Some of them make her happier that she had ever realized she could be. While she sometimes looses track of these travelers, her favorites reappear often, and they walk along together for a while. She hasn't forgotten the traveler on the hill, but his laughter isn't so loud, and the sparkling tales he had told her begin to grow dim in her mind. She is spinning her own sparkling trail, full of her own kinds of adventures, none quite so dark as the things the traveler had told her about.
The forest, of course, begins to thin out eventually, and she knows that she will soon be coming to the most difficult leg of her journey. More rocks begin to crop up as she nears the foot of the mountain. She's terrified of failing at this point, she has to keep moving. She knows that the other travelers, her friends now, will probably meet her somewhere along the mountain trail, but she cannot depend on them. Instead, she leans on her staff, the trusty staff that she had leaned on all along.
The mountain trail is the most difficult, as she had known it would be. She walks with her fellow travelers sometimes, but quite often it is only her and her staff on the narrow trail. The sun can't reach her in some places, because the rocks block it out. The higher up she goes, the more afraid she grows of falling off. Sometimes, she looks over the edge. She can see the hill where she began, sparkling with dew, calling her, but she knows she must never go back to the sunny hill. She can see the valley, where she took her first steps. She can see the forest, where she had so enjoyed herself. She can see other travelers, making their way to their destinations. And far in the distance, she can see the traveler who had left her alone on her hill. She doesn't know what he is chasing anymore. She wonders if one day he will also see the mountain, and the longing to reach the top will settle in his heart as it had hers, and they will meet again someday. She doesn't expect it to happen, as he is still wandering from hill to hill, as if the beautiful, treacherous mountain path doesn't exist.
She turns away from the view and sets her face towards the mountain top. Her faithful staff gripped in her hand, she struggles and climbs her way skywards.
One day, she reaches the mountain peak. The sparkling, difficult trail she left behind still shimmers in the sun, but now it's all behind her. Her eyes take in the golden scene before her. Here, the grass is softer and greener than on her hill, and it doesn't irritate her. Here, the water is sparkling clean, and there isn't anything to sully it.
Some of her fellow travelers are up here, along with some that she doesn't know yet. She embraces her friends and the strangers. She feels the sun on her face, warmer now, and more golden than down on her hill. The blue sky above her is so vividly blue that it takes her breath away.
Now she turns to look back at her journey. She can see the trail she left behind, and now she can see some travelers following her sparkling footsteps, leaving behind their own set of shining footprints. She can see the forest, still beautiful, but in a different way than the mountain. She can see the valley, which still reminds her of the painful first steps. She can see her grassy hill, now cold and dull looking compared to the mountain. Even the sparkling dew on the other hills looks dull now.
She fingers her staff, now worn and ragged, but still as strong as ever. It's smoother now, and fits perfectly in her hand. In her eyes, it's the most beautiful thing she has, the white bark brighter than the shining water, it's strength greater than the mountain top. The beautiful staff is one thing that she never will set down, even though she has reached the end of her journey.
She closes her eyes and faces the sun, soaking in it's warm rays. She thinks of all the wonderful things she can accomplish now that she's reached the mountain.
She remembers the pain of the first step towards the mountain, about how she almost gave up then. And she's thankful that she never gave in.
"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."
Cheers!
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