THE HILL

She rolled down the hill one last time—straight into memory, into childhood, into forever

She sat at the top of the ancient hill, gazing down the slope. Debating whether to join the others tumbling through grass and time.

She remembered the wind in her face, the way her lower back lifted from the earth as her head tucked under and the world spun. Grass in her nose. Sun on her spine. Laughter merging with shrieks into a symphony of joy.

She crouched. Logical self whispering risks. Child self begging for flight.

She tucked her head. Pushed off gently. The first smack of her skull against the packed earth reminded her how much it hurt to remember.

Still, the grass brought summers flooding back—so vivid, she couldn’t separate then from now. One roll turned into another.

Sky. Grass. Sky. Grass.

She lost track. Forgot her age. Forgot her bones. Her giggle melted into a sharp squeal. Joy shifted into terror. The hill was too steep now. Her mind went blank.

She smelled the earth.

She smelled the end.

And then—stillness.

A young girl, no more than five, ran to her side beneath the shade of the pine tree.

The old woman smiled. Drew her final breath.

“Now that was fun,” she said.