By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee
Long, winding dirt path up a little mountain
Rocks on both sides ... covered in lush, green moss
Trees growing tall to the sky ... patches of blue sky peeping through
Joy, peace of mind engulf one ... quietness, only the sound of birds
An occasional woodpecker knocking here ... there
Fairchild's Mountain ... I have many memories there
To the left of the path at the very top ... lies a small cemetery
Not for people ... for Pups, animals from the wild
All were loved by us ... from Pups to feral cats ... white possum
Sometimes, the road below claimed an animal we fed, loved
We would bring it up on top of Fairchild's Mountain
Lay it gently in its grave, cover it with soft dirt, blanket it with love
Lay a mound of rocks to protect the grave from other animals
I would stand there, sadness in my Heart for the loss of a life so special
Animals no one else in the world was aware of ... only Skip, myself knew they were there ... cared for, loved by us when they lived
In my mind, I visit Fairchild's Mountain, where we once lived
It's the last place I saw my son, only child ... Tommy
The evening before he died ... I see his smiling face, twinkling eyes
Hear his soft voice saying 'mama' ... strange, that evening
The very air about him was special ... golden, shining like the sun
Strange ... how people 'glow with beauty' ... before they die
Maybe I'm the only one who sees the 'glowing beauty' ... I'm not sure
I know I see it, feel it ... never realizing that soon ... that person would be gone
I've seen it over, and over ... somehow, I forget ... never feel alarm
Fairchild's Mountain was named after our big Rottweiler ... he ruled that mountain
His name was known far, and wide
He was huge ... beautiful, and to be 'woofed' by him was 'something'
I used to ride him around on a cobalt blue Volkswagon ... sun roof open
Fairchild sat in the back seat .... with his red bandana blowing in the wind
People wanted to pet Fairchild, he didn't want them near ... it didn't stop anyone from admiring him
There were a lot of good memories on Fairchild's Mountain
Sad ones, scary ones ... too
One being where I saw our mailbox murdered by a stranger
Strange people sometimes, rode up on Fairchild's Mountain
It was isolated, some came to see what they could see
Some came, hoping they could sit in peace, drink their spirits
I just became aware of soft music playing here, in Skip's study
My eyes have several sparkling, diamond teardrops in them
I think one slid down on my cheek ... leaving a cold path
Reaching up, the tips of my fingers brush it off, warm the skin
No longer feeling cold ... forgetting that I may have been crying
While in my mind, I was on Fairchild's Mountain ... visiting the past
Visiting with each loved animal buried in the cemetery ... each feral cat I fed for a year after we moved, here
Pain for so many animals I loved with my Heart ... so, many tears
Pain ... it's where I last saw Tommy's smile, heard his son voice saying 'mama' ... last saw him walking ... last time he hugged me ... last waved at him ... he waved to me, smiling, calling 'bye, mama, bye'!
Fairchild's Mountain ... there's so much in that name, place
Colors of my life are embedded in the rocks, trees ...in the very air, there
No one will ever see, know ... if they sense ... they will feel a soft specialness in the air ... love; grief from a mother who lost her son; beloved Pups ... wild animals
Since we moved from there ... we took the name with us
Making it impossible to ever know ... where ... Fairchild's Mountain was
Fairchild's Mountain is now, only a memory of many last memories of special events in my life
The first, last times I ever spent happy times with a little grandson
Who is growing older, forgetting his Granny Gee
Family sounds ... how I miss 'family sounds' ... my family's sounds
Sounds, sights that will never be heard again
Only in my memory of memories
Up on Fairchild's Mountain
Photos/poem owned by Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee
Fairchild's Mountain was real at one time ... it's still there ... but, it isn't Fairchild's Mountain, anymore. I could walk there, see things no one else could see ... I wonder if the new owners sense any of those things?
Feel an unexpected happiness ... feel unexpected grief ... cry when not knowing why they cried ... smile, not knowing they are sensing happy times? 'Know' this special place was the ... last of many special things ... for this grieving mother ... grandmother?
I remember "Fairchild's Mountain" very well. Bad things did happen on that mountain. I remember that is where you moved to when you lost your home in the fire too. I think "Fairchild Mountain" is a great name for that place. Love, Ms. Nancy
ReplyDelete