We had another windy day today — one I’d been waiting for, because I’ve been longing to go hiking for a while. It’s been about a week now that I’ve felt the urge to wander — across hills and valleys, through the forest. Imagine, autumn here is beautiful. Nature tempts us with every shade from yellow to deep burgundy, and all the greens in between — for us, those who still love and respect her, even just a little. So I decided to head out to the nearby hills. And since I was going that way, I thought I’d visit my dad as well. And if I was already visiting him, I might as well stop by my grandpa too. They’re not far from each other, just as they never were. It seems it will stay that way for a while.
What can I even say about cemeteries? Sometimes they’re large, sometimes small. Ours is large. Very large. Grandpa looks down from the hill, across to the mountain opposite. He’s got it good there. And Dad — he’s got his spot just a little higher up, among the trees, close to the forest he loved so much. Imagine, I cleaned his grave today and found a tiny tuft of violet there. Then I went on quickly, because nature was calling — the forest, the one he loved so much, and I love just as much. I climbed up the three-cornered trail, just as we used to, that leads to the mountain. The path was steep, chalky, scattered with mineral stones — I almost had to crawl on all fours. I remember, as a little girl, I used my hands too, climbing up along the triangle. Though, back then, the mountain was even steeper.
Up there, in one stretch, the wind was sharp — just like it used to be when I was little, when my dad cupped my ears between his palms to keep them warm. Today, no one held them warm. It’s all right — he taught me to love wearing hats, the kind that keep my ears warm. But look — as I was crawling up that crooked, rocky hillside, I thought of my dad. Maybe he too had walked up there, at my age now, with us kids — in the very place I went today — the same age then as I am now. It was a strange feeling: beneath my feet were his footsteps too. I had never imagined that before. And believe me, I still love him, just the same. No more, no less. Just the same as before. Like the sharp wind in that stretch. Life, it seems is eternal after all. Just time itself gets its hazy silk. And as for my ears — I’ve got my hats, my dad’s hands to keep them warm.
