The Hill’s Generosity

A short creative writing piece by me!

“The colors of fall are something even an alien would die for,” I think to myself as I look down the hill and see a world of trees. Every tree is significant and unique in its own way. It is something I would definitely die for. I have developed a kinship with trees. The personalities they carry are the ones I look for in a companion. The wind that flies all around me takes with it the many things that bother me.
Behind me pops up my brother with his messy hair and smiling face saying, “Hello, Haneen.” How did he know my hiding spot? I don’t know, but his presence doesn’t bother me. After all, staying positive was something we both had in common. I mumble a “hello” and watch as he lays his head down on the yellow grass and looks up at the sky. An envious tickle goes up my spine. I should have put my head down before he did. The sky in Colorado is miraculous all year long, and the blend of the stratus clouds with the color of the sky can stop a daydreamer from fantasizing. I stop the sinful thoughts and open the notebook I had brought with me. After finding an empty page, I write about the glorious view and I imagine I am a bird. Taking my time with every precious sentence, I write.
After my detailed story was over, I am ready to leave my little dream. Dinner will be ready soon. It’s almost half-past five. Joining me, my brother gets up and brushes off the dust that has stuck to his clothes. We head towards the sunset. West is where our home sits. We pass through homes and stores, streets and civilians, trees and stray animals.
As I hear the conversations of the people around me, I feel the awkwardness of our silence. I keep quiet, knowing my brother hates conversing with people he sees every day. But today was different. Today was the day I learned something. Today was the day that I was inspired to write. Today was the day my world turned from stone to spirit. We walked to the entrance of our home. Before opening the door, he said something that meant the world to me. He said, “The tranquility of that hill comes from the generosity that God gave it.” I have spent days thinking about what he had said. I have even cried at times when the anxiety that my world brings burdens my heart to an extent that is out of my control. His words have been the inspiration for my creative nonfiction work.