|Billy, on top of the world|
He drove us to Streaked Mountain, and we spent the next hour or so hiking one of the steepest mountains I've hiked. (I actually lost my footing one of the times and managed to twist my ankle. So graceful :) ). When we got to the top, I saw a bush. "What's that?"
"Wild blueberries," he answered.
"Can I eat them without dying?" (The entire time I was thinking about Hunger Games.)
"Probably," he said.
|Me on top of the world.|
Days after the adventure, I was sitting in the newspaper office and mentioned hiking. I was asked (rather ferociously) if there were blueberries. I said yes and that I'd eaten some. The woman slumped with jealousy.
That same day, I made my voyage for the Real People column and interviewed a 98 year old woman. She's from the area, and used to go to school via horse and wagon. She told me about her brother dying in WWII (he was only 23, and very, very handsome). Closer to the end, she talked about hiking Streaked Mountain when she was younger, and eating the wild blueberries.
My mouth fell open. "I just did that."
"Really? Were they wonderful?" she asked.
I recounted the way they tasted, and how it was my first time ever to the mountain.
As I left, holding my notes from the interview, I was washed with a million feelings. I am 25. She is 98. Yet, chances are we'd stood in the same place, overlooking the surrounding mountains, perhaps even eating from the same blueberry bush.
I have every intention of hiking Streaked tomorrow morning with another friend, this time, knowing that I carry a 98 year old's memories with me. I'll be sure to eat some blueberries for her.