Moving On

I saw the little structure on top of the hill and was drawn to it at once. From what I could see, it seemed to be a peaceful little hut, done in stones that glowed in the sunshine. It was early noon and I knew I could reach it before sunset.

Climbing up, I saw it hallowed with the sun overhead and then glorious with the sun westward. As I came closer, it seemed inviting, almost smiling back. I wished with all my heart that it was uninhabited; that I get to explore it and understand it. I could see that it had a little enclosure in the front, full of overgrown grass and wild flowers.

I reached it and was relieved to have it all to myself. The daylight was almost gone. I undid my bag and lit the battery-run lantern. It was a small room. The floor was level till about the middle of the room and then there was a minor, but visible, slant. I settled in a corner in the slanted part, with a small window on the wall to my left. There was mud on the floor, which I had to scoop to the other side, but there were no cobwebs.

The wall on my back transfused the warmth that it had saved from the day into my aching muscles. The irregular bricks of the floor massaged my tired calves. When I turned and ran my fingers on the brownish wall, I was happy to find that it had the same texture that I thought it would have. Beneath a thin layer of dust, I discovered the smooth, even surface. The space in between the stones was a tone of beige that merged completely with the color of the back of my hand. This beige filling was etched with a semi circular pattern, like the semi circles on one’s lower lip. 

My hair gently clung to the wall while I unwrapped and ate my dinner.  I ditched my sleeping bag and slept in a light shawl, my cheek pressed to the wall.

Huddled warm in my corner, I woke up to find thin curls of fog entering my room. The day remained cloudy. I made up a fire and saw my room bask in the warmth. The flame leapt up, as if to reach something-came back and leapt up again. I saw a trail of ants, moving with minute eggs that looked like droplets of water.

I was woken up in the middle of the night by the harsh rain water that came splashing on my face. I had to leave my corner. I went and slept against the opposite wall, in the steep half of the room. I kept shifting in my sleep. I woke up stiff, and cold. The rain had stopped. But my corner was filled with water. The sun was not out and all wood was wet. I sat in the dry, steep part. The wall behind me remained cold; the floor painfully uneven. The room was dark as a tomb. I waited for the sun to rise.

When the sun rose, I looked out of the window for the first time.

I am climbing up again. Sometimes I lose sight of it. It is so much higher up. But whenever I’m able to see it, I know that every living atom in my body wants to reach it. I must reach it.