Chapter 1
As I leapt through the air, I relished the breeze through my hair and around my bare arms and waist. Tilted my head back and twirled, taking wide altering length steps and simply enjoying the grass under my feet and the open sky above me. I kicked my leg high, landing it to my right and dropping into a square squat before turning and tangling my legs under me, knees hitting ground solidly, twisting, and planting my leg at a right angle to stand slowly, gracefully, toe dragging, pointed, head high; eyes on the endless horizon, the mountain at my back.
I glanced at the sun nearing the last quarter of its arc and, realizing the time, scurried to where I had cast my boots and slipped them on, quickly pulling and crossing the laces into their hooks to tie a messy bow. I shoved the hoodie over my tangled hair rather unceremoniously as I stalked to my four-wheeler just a bit away, still filled with the confidence that dancing gave me. I started the engine and let it rumble between my legs so I could twist my long hair into a frizzy bun on top of my head. I shifted out of neutral quickly and sped down the grade, weaving over and between ruts and large stones expertly. I know this mountain like I know my scars; wholly and completely.
I finally reached the road just off Price Gulch after crossing the stream twice and darting under the aspen patch at the base of the mountain. If I didn’t kick my speed up a notch on UHC, I’d be dead at the hand of a very angry mother. I was supposed to help her make dinner tonight: we (apparently) had company coming.
I was glad I had a brought a lighter sweatshirt this time. Last week I had practically boiled on the way home. The headwind I'd been riding into hadn't been enough to cool me off. I loved summer but I also loved the cool spells and rains that spring brought. The shorter days annoyed me though. I was looking forward to staying up late reading or weaving in my window with the late golden sun as my light.
Though tonight I’d enjoy the company of our longtime friends and neighbors, I was particularly intrigued by the news that they were bringing their nephew, who was staying the summer with them. He was supposedly 17 and tall. I really didn’t know much more.
I greeted my mother as soon as I walked through the rattling wood door. “Hey, I’ll be there in a sec, just gotta get my boots off.”
“Okay, take time your time.” That was sarcasm. She was definitely a little pissed off.
I scrubbed my hands and arms of gravel dust and dove into cooking, moving through the kitchen with my mother in graceful coordinated arcs, subtly avoiding her eyes.
I grew up in this kitchen with my mom and dad. We know each other’s movements in this dance that is creation.
As I was chopping peppers for a salad, I felt a presence near me. Not malicious, and not my mother. Just a presence. But this is common in this building that has stood for 2 locations and has housed many before my grandparents passed it to us.
Still this presence was very strong. The feeling that I wasn’t alone with my mom in the room started to disturb me as I was wary of being watched. I instinctively glanced up periodically from slicing peppers and, as I expected, nobody new was in sight, but I still felt I was being watched, and didn’t like it.
I slid my board to the end of the counter that butted against the wall and angled myself to watch the room, back to the wall, as I finished slicing the last bell pepper. I turned around and grabbed the box of strawberries from the fridge and sidled over to the sink. I felt the presence leave and was able to relax some, but I felt the tension linger in my shoulders involuntarily. This felt like a new spirit, and I wasn’t sure I liked it.
