Red Ridge Mountain

Chapter I

My story began on the Red Ridge Mountains of Cascade. The day I was born, fall was at its golden peak, with so many glorious sights to behold. The leaves on the trees were splashed with vivid reds, oranges, and yellows when I opened my eyes for the first time. The morning air was crisp and fresh and I could feel it when I drew my first breath. At least, that's what my father told me. He was the only human I had contact within over 14 years of being alone.

When I was old enough to understand, my father explained to me what had happened to our family. When I was born my parents were nearing the end of a two day journey to their cabin on Mt. Cyan. My father was driving when my mother went into labor with me. Her pain escalated, forcing my father to pull over, near a shallow cave. My mother walked to the entrance of the cave and a few hours later I was born, but there were complications.

     As my mother kept losing blood, she turned pale. Father says she knew she wasn't going to make it to the next day. She begged him to leave her and get to the cabin they had shared, carrying me with him. He refused; we stayed there until her last, shuddering breath.

     When my father finally came back to his senses a few minutes later, he noticed the serenity of the cave in which my mother had been laid to eternal rest. There were cracks in the rock at the top of the cave, which allowed the perfect amount of sunlight in; they lit up my mother's face just enough for him to see her beauty one final time. She looked as if she were still alive and merely sleeping, ready to wake up with one little shake. The cave was hidden in a patch of forest full of majestic oaks and red pines. The floor was lined with beautiful wild flowers and clovers. Her secret, heartbreaking grave. It was the last memory my father would have of my mother, one that he recounted every day to me.

After the death of my mother, I became the center of my father's life. I gave him a reason to live. For that, I am grateful.