I climb up the steep hill. I wipe my sweaty forehead with the back of my hand and pull out my water bottle from my bag. I pull the top off and guzzle the remaining water.
I stare at the top of the hill determinedly. I look over my shoulder and watch the sun begin to set. I look back at the top of the hill and continue trekking up the steep hill. I see wooden stairs as I get closer to the top of the hill.
I smile and quicken my pace. Stairs in full view, I trip over a large rock and hit the ground hard. My head is hurting. I slowly sit up. I groan as I stand and dust myself off. I ascend the wooden stairs.
The stairs creak under my weight and didn’t feel sturdy. I tighten my grip on the wood railing.
I ascend the last step, and I open the metal gate. A KURLEIGH HILL CEMETERY sign swung from side to side as I took a few steps forward and closed it
I look around. I see a tear shaped headstone amongst the rows and slowly walk towards it. I reach out and wipe away cobwebs from the stone.
“Hey, mom,” I whisper.
“It’s our favorite day.”
I sit on my knees and smile.
“I brought you a gift,” I say as I open my bag.
I pull out a black ceramic cat and place it near the headstone.
I pull out a purple candle and set it down. I strike a match and light it.
“It’s lavender, your favorite,” I whisper.
My vision blurs as tears form.
I bow my head, tears fall down my cheeks. I wipe them away and smile as I gaze at the sunset. It will be nighttime soon. I touch the stone and stand up. I zip my bag and place it over my shoulders.
“I love you, Mom,” I mouth as I open up the metal gate.
I slowly descend the creaky stairs.
As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I look down the rocky terrain. Fireworks could be heard in the distance. I slowly make my way down the hill.
“Where’d you go?” Maurice asks as I enter the campground.
I look at her. My dried tears and mucous stains gave it away. She wraps me in a hug and squeezes my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Maurice whispers.
She clears her throat
“I thought I’d have dinner done by the time you returned, but,”
Maurice looks over at the boiling pot over the fire.
“It’s not done.”
I shrug and yawn.
“We’re having a sea food boil,” Maurice says, smiling.
“It shouldn’t be much longer!”
I nod and smile.
“Sounds delicious!”
After a few rounds of us playing cards, Maurice walks over to the fire and begins to scoop up dinner on paper plates. She places a fork and plate in front of me. I lick my lips.
She sits down beside me. I take a bite, Cajun, and other seasonings explode my taste buds.
‘it’s delicious, Maurice!” I say between bites.
Maurice chuckles.
“Eat up, there’s plenty,” says Maurice.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. I throw away my plate in a black trash bag.
“I’d like to watch fireworks,” says Maurice
I turn and groan.
“I don’t like large crowds!”
Maurice chuckles.
‘Don’t worry, I remember,” Maurice says, smiling.
She points over her shoulder with her thumb.
‘We can see them from here,” says Maurice.
I smile a cheesy grin.
“OK, sounds good to me!" I say as the fireworks begin to get set off.
The show ended with a black cat shaped firework.
"That was a lot of loud squealing and lights," I mumble.
I unzip the tent
"Good night, Maurice!" I say as I crawl in the tent. I lay on my air mattress and cover myself with a sheet. I quickly fall asleep with a smile and a feeling of gratitude for simple things in life.
YOU ARE READING
223,000 strikes of Paint
Cerita PendekA collection of thought-provoking short stories. Inspired by life's uniqueness and the ability to overcome difficulties. It takes many paint strokes to complete a painting, but only one to begin.
