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The Trip
by Willadene
The weekend started out with a quiet little trip to my parents place in
Oregon. The sun was shining and the Pacific Ocean was sparkling on my
right. It was a beautiful start to a weekend full of peaks and valleys.
Now I have had major back problems for a number of years and have
decided I was going to live with it. I knew my limitations. I knew what I
could do and couldn't. It was set in stone. Well, I thought it was.
On Sunday it was decided we would take a ride up on the Foley Peak,
a local mountain that was used for a lookout during WWII. People would look out with binoculars over the Pacific Ocean in search of Japanese warships or planes. As a child it had been our greatest thrill to hike up to this lookout and put our names on it.
The ride was pretty amusing as we went up logging roads in the Tillamook Forest. My brother was driving the pickup truck I was in and had to back down the hill and restart up at one point. But we did keep up with the others. They had four wheel drives and he just had his two wheel.
As we progressed up the road we came to a landing where we could look
out over the trees in a valley, but it wasn't the one we wanted, so we
left the pickup there and continued on in my other brother's rig.
To my surprise, he immediately took a very bushy and overgrown lane. Up we
traveled until we came out on a rocky cliff and looked down onto the
top of my folks' home. But he did not stop there. He continued on up an
even more overgrown and bumpy lane. We came to a small clearing and he
turned around and parked.
Now he said "We walk up that trail over there now."
I looked. It wasn't steep. I could do that. It was just a little ways.
We all piled out of the vehicles and started along the trail. Soon it
took off up a hill. It was a steep hill. I paused. I could not do that.
No way. Not for anything.
"Willa come on. You can do this. You used to walk up here before." That
was my little sister. "You chicken! Oh oh. There were those familiar words-- "DON'T BE A WIMP!" Yep, there were those words.
I took a deep breath and started up the hill. I could not be a wimp. I
could not be a chicken. I had to show her. I was determined.
But my back... was not. I climbed up for a few minutes falling
further and further behind. The loam on the forest floor was thick and
my feet kept sliding as I went. Two steps up, one slip back. My face felt
like it was on fire. Sweat rolled down, stinging my eyes. My glasses were fogging up. I could hear the others up ahead out of my sight.
Then my little sister was back down at my side. "Come on, you can do it.
It is just a little ways more." I took another few steps. My legs were
lead. It was a greater effort each step I took.
I knew I was going to die. I was sure of it. I sat down to catch my
breath. I could hear my sister urging me on. I got up and started up the
hill again. Just a few more feet, a yard, two yards, another one.
I collapsed onto the ground. My older brother was there now trying to
help. I could not go any further. My sister left me and went and caught up
with the others who were out of sight. I lay there for a few minutes. Sorrow rose in me over the loss of the site of my goal. I wanted to see it so much. The disappointment became a heavy weight on my heart. I had failed again.
My brother spoke up, "Let me help you down the hill. We might as well get
going. We should be able to get there before they get back." And so we went.
Oh, the trip was so nice going down. He stepped on some branches so I
could get through and led me on the easiest path down. Flowers were pointed out to me that he had only seen on the cliffs. His calming words soon had me feeling a lot better. Soon, we were at the trucks. I turned around in time to see the first ones returning through the bushes. What a climb. I had never thought I could climb as far as I had.
Then we were back in the vehicles traveling back down the roadways. When
we got to the cliff face, we stopped and looked down at my parents' home
where I grew up and where we had gathered one more time. Looking out over
the valley it looked so small for something that has meant so much to me
for 45 years of my life-- the most beautiful place in the world to me.
I lifted my eyes from the valley and saw the fog hugging the Pacific Ocean
and the sun sinking with the most beautiful colors. I felt strength
returning to me, and something more.
The rest of the trip was in ever-darkening nightfall, as we made our
way down the hills. Soon we were back at my parents' home.
As I look back, I realize that I had made a breakthrough. I was no
longer stuck in the idea of uselessness and disability. I no longer
could not do. I was like that little train that could. Hope had returned
to me. I could and will attempt anything that comes my way now.
I close my eyes and think of that trip, and I see the sunset. My own
sunset will have those beautiful colors.
©2004 Willadene Hurliman
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