This is my Mountain
I sit at the ledge of the mountain, a warm breeze playing my hair and small shards of rock pelting me as I hear the steps of hiking parties above me. I don’t know if I’ve ever panicked before, and today was no exception.I hear a bird caw in the distance, a tiny little dot winding in and out of clouds. Istay sitting there, listening for the birds, when I hear a twig crack. Close.I nearly fall off the cliff, thinking it was a mountain lion. I regain my composure, pretending not to hear, and continuing to listen for the distant birdcall.“Hello,” I hear a voice whisper, soft as if wanting and yet not wanting to be heard.I stay silent and still, but he knows I heard him.“There’s a search party looking for you.”I don’t even wince.He sits down next to me, and we’re both swinging our legs now. “I could tell themyou’re here.”Behind piles and mounds of stray brush and twigs. That’s where you’d find me.“But you don’t want to be found.”It isn’t a question but a statement of fact. His fingers fill the gaps in mine.“I found you anyways.”I give him a slight grin so slight I don’t know if he sees it. I know he does.The bird caws again, and we both sit there for a while. I don’t know how long wespend sitting there, waiting for the bird to call again.“The bird isn’t cawing anymore.”As I say this, I get up, letting my hand slip from his. He doesn’t get up. I leave mysmall section of the mountain to him. I slip back to the hiking group and don’t tell himwhere he is. Because, I have a feeling he doesn’t want to be found.
