It was a side street off of a side street. Wide asphalt interrupted the otherwise rolling hills. A large cul de sac separated six or so recently built houses. The houses towered high, a stark contrast to the flat lands surrounding it. A large gate separated the developing neighborhood with the old one behind it.
Before the cul de sac sat a mound of dirt. One could call it a hill, but even that would be exaggerated. It grew like a swollen bump from the ground. Patches of grass grew towards the bottom. Wildflowers blossomed at the top. Stepping onto the dirt was a disturbing experience; the mulch sunk and squelched around your sneakers, giving you the fleeting effect of quicksand. It was a mess in the middle of the new complex.
But it was my summer.
My friend discovered it at the beginning of quarantine. She enjoyed biking to listen to music and feel the wind blow at the tips of her ears. It became the location for us to watch the sun and its patterns. We would meet there every morning at 5:30am and climb up, carefully placing our feet in the same places we left the day before. Sometimes, on a dry day, we would fling a towel upon the tall grass and sit there, reading a book or talking amongst ourselves. Someone always played music in the background. The nostalgic notes whispered to us, singing a lullaby. Together, we would watch the sun rise.
“Wow…”
The hill felt the palms of our hands dig into the dirt through the towel as we leaned back, craning our necks to watch the stars disappear one by one, retiring for the day. It felt the soles of our sneakers, leaving indents on its back. It tasted the drops of our popsicles as they melted into the soil. It heard our giggles and guffaws, our loud exclamations and the quietest secrets.
We slipped and skidded down the sides as we stumbled back down.
“Bye Hill!”
The fishing line in our bicycles started, then diminished as our bodies retreated backwards into the light. In the distance, you could hear our chatter. Maybe we would return on the weekends when school let out.
The first weekend of school, we visited our dear friend yet again. In its place sat the framework of a new house. We saw its fate in the bulldozer sitting beside the road.
Bye Hill.
October 2020