The Same Hill, A Different View

The air never changed; it remained fresh and gently caressed his skin with motherly tenderness that comforted him, leaving him wholesomely mellow. Even the sight of the valley from the top of the hill retained its magnificence, leaving him in awesome wonder.

As he sat in the lotus position at a secluded section of the hill, adorned with pampered crown grass, he felt a deep sense of familiarity. This was where he spent many evenings whenever he was in town, but now, after a decade away, he realized the setting remained the same – only he had changed.

Reflecting on the teenager he once was, making the same trip, he understood that time had eroded a significant part of his identity, almost extinguishing him. If it weren’t for the memories, that teenager could have been dead and buried. Yet, he knew he carried the teenager within him, and those experiences would forever be a part of him.

Did he miss that version of himself? No. The teenager was burdened with fear, quiet desperation, and uncertainty about many things. Although the emotional turmoil persisted, its impact had lessened significantly, as he had learned to take deep breaths and trust that things would work out.

He fondly remembered how the serene environment on the hill had nursed his troubles and tempered the turmoil, which was why he had made the trip numerous times. However, his time away had shifted his perspective; the reason for his visits was no longer an escape but an expression of gratitude for the beauty he often missed when lost in his thoughts. Maturity had gifted him a new perspective.

For instance, he had never noticed when the lilies bloomed, but now he anticipated it with the eagerness of a botanist. He had also overlooked the playfulness of clouds as they played hide-and-seek with the sun and the vibrant orange hue the sky turned just before nightfall.

It was clear now that as the emotional turmoil cooled with age, it allowed him to become more attuned to his surroundings, appreciating the harmony. During moments like these, he often pondered fundamental questions: Would his life have been better if he had known what he knows now? Would it have saved him from the tumultuous teenage years?

However, he understood that life doesn’t work that way. If we knew everything beforehand, we wouldn’t need to learn, explore, or grow. The essence of life would be lost. With hindsight, he had learned to appreciate the journey, recognizing that a decade later, he would be a different person, carrying only memories of the present and likely asking himself the same questions.

The last decade had taught him that questions don’t always need immediate answers; sometimes, the answers arrive when they’re meant to. Growing up is a delicate balance between seeking and waiting. He had learned calmness, and as he unfolded his legs, spread them, and lay on his back with arms outstretched and eyes fixed on the beautiful orange sky dotted with shiny clouds, he knew everything would be well – maybe not immediately, but eventually.