Based on my own experiences. :)
I liked to roam across the hills when I was little. Forging my own trails, running my fingers over the sagebrush. My mom liked the smell, it reminds me of her.
I would climb the hill to the rocks. They sat watching over the whole valley. I wasn't tall, but even I could see everywhere when I stood upon them.
Then I would set off again. Climbing up, up, up.
At the peak of the hill were a bunch of juniper trees. Have you ever eaten one of the berries? I don't recommend it. Most of the time they're sour.
The junipers were excellent forts for me. Their twisting branches provided little nooks and crannies for me to climb inside.
Sometimes I would see cacti, and they blended in with the ground so perfectly I would almost step on them. Until I noticed the spines, of course.
Running deeper into the hills, I would often find deer scat. I know that sounds gross, but I liked the idea that the deer had been here. That they were near me.
As the sun slid across the sky, and my little legs began to grow tired, I would begin my walk home.
I picked wildflowers of all different colors for my mom. Yellow, pink, white, purple, indigo. Once I had gathered one of each color, I would look for leaves to compliment my makeshift bouquet.
As my home came into view, I made sure my gift was ready. I took off my shoes and set them by the door.
My journey into the hills was over. For now.
