THE OLD HILL

                                               THE  OLD  HILL

                                    NORMAN  V.  KELLY

 

I pulled into the parking lot at Landmark Health Club just as it began to snow.  As I looked up I could tell that those were my favorite snowflakes, huge, white and fluffy.  Just like I did when I was a kid I held my head back, tongue out, loving the feeling it gave me as the thick snowflakes hit my tongue. Instead of going to the club I walked over to the man-made ditch right behind the restaurant and looked down toward I-74 there at Forest Hill.  As I stood staring, my mind went back to a time when this place…this very hill was the most beautiful place on earth to me and hundreds of other kids that went to Woodrow Wilson, Loucks and Sipp grade schools back in the 40’s and 50’s. I grew up in El Vista so of course it was really ‘our hill.’ since it was so close to us.

 

The wind had kicked up and as the snow swirled about me I could have sworn that I heard someone call my name. I walked closer to the edge of the drop off and stared even harder. There, I could see myself running toward the hill; sled in hand ready to flop on the sled for a ride to the frozen creek below. One after the other we ran, flopping on our sleds and racing each other to the bottom of that magnificent, snow-packed hill. Once the sled stopped on the ice we would all gather to make the long, snow packed trek to the top of the hill.

 

With the gorgeous cold moon over our shoulders we looked down at the giant cottonwood tree surrounded by kids roasting wieners over a roaring fire. The delicious smell of those hot dogs wafting up to our frozen noses sent us racing down the hill once again. Hoping for a handout we trudged up to get as close to the fire as we could. The blaze sparkled and cracked as we looked up at some of the adults with hunger in our eyes. “Hey kids, wanna hot dog?”  Our frozen faces hurt as we grinned, “yes, sir, we sure do.” If there was a better moment or a better place on this earth, I never found it as a child.

 

The blast of an air horn somewhere on the expressway snapped me out of my reverie and the old hill disappeared.   Not to worry, I know where that old hill is and it will always be there when I need it. All I really need is a blustery, snowy day and the sight of some kid with a runny nose pulling his sled behind him. I’d recognize that grin anywhere.                                      norman.kelly@sbcglobal.net