Story-A-Day #203: Of The Valley

OF THE VALLEY


I grew up in a valley, a serene mist blanketed place that was home to our village. The valley was flanked by steep embankments of evergreens, always shrouded in a cool, misty grey, always threatening rain.

It wasn’t a depressing place, and not as gloomy as you might already be imagining. In fact, it was an extremely verdant place, full of life and prosperity. With the moisture, our village always had incredible crops. The kind that would always win the Biggest, juiciest, most perfect prizes at the regional fall fairs.

It was a quiet and simple place.

Most of the houses were built out of wood harvested from the neighbouring hills. They were fairly simple dwellings, but each one was painted in vibrant colours. Our village was like a children’s dream come to life.

There were blue walls with yellow accents, fiery red roofs with yellow green chimneys, unimaginable combinations of colours and life. The shops were more resplendent still, some with swirling facades of colour that defied description. Even the old mill was a blast of freshness.

I suppose it was our way of dealing with the weather that seemed to hand over our home, but most of us didn’t know any different.

In the spring, the lilies would bloom, filling the entire valley with their fragrant perfume. It was magical, and I miss it so. That perfume is all that remains now.

Nearly ten years ago today, a fire ravaged the entire valley, sparked by a lightning strike during an early summer thunderstorm. Most of us were able to escape, but not without a price.

Our homes and belongings were destroyed. I have received letters from some of my old neighbours. They are all over the place now, Europe, the United States, even the Caribbean – I can’t imagine the adjustment that would be, tading our mist for all that sunshine.

I have heard that some people have started making their way back, looking to rebuild what was lost. They are braver and stronger than me.

I might return to our valley one day, but now is too soon.

For me, the lilies in my backyard are as close as I can stand to be. Their sweet perfume a reminder of the life I lived, and the home I lost. It is bittersweet, but it is life. Our days in the valley taught us how to persevere, and that is what we are all doing, each of us in our own way.

We have new houses and friends, but we are of the valley and it will always be a part of us.