Stories

Hidden Treasures

A Woman’s Strength and Journey

Her journey begins in the violet haze of dawn

enveloped in a dark cloak of mist, she

breathes into her scarf

looking up into the parting clouds,

sees her goal, overhead

a white mountain’s peak

scraping the pale skies above.

Treading slowly, carefully

with her torn sandals

barely

keeping her feet from

the cold, barren ground.

With only the comfort

of the life

around her,

she continues walking

step after step after step

leaving her quiet trace behind

in the resilient, frostbitten snow.

Squinting her eyes

through the soft white flurries

as the slush underfoot fades

into a gentler field

of fine and supple grass

slowly sloping skyward

where the mountain

begins.

The first area is easy. Near the summit, the land is steep and uneven, but the grass here is a soft green, more pliable. The snowflakes are shimmering. This is a beautiful moment.

She takes off her beaten shoes

just

for this moment

to feel the grass

against her feet

relishing its mellowness

before, she knows,

jagged stones will take its place

and she will truly be tested

in her strength

and

will.

Midway up

the mist has faded

revealing the sun

already at its highest point

she is tired,

mud smeared on her legs,

but she perseveres.

It is a plum tree. Halfway up a mountain is a strange place for such a thing. It stands out against the ground around it. The leaves are bright emerald, and the fruit is a deep purple.

Feeling the firmness

of the plums

she is determined

and walks further

begins to climb

for the mountain’s slope

is increasing in difficulty

and it will soon be

impossible

to simply stride upon.

So she climbs.

At long, long last

she is ready to faint

but she steps the final stone

breaks into open air

and there she is.

On the mountain’s

summit.

Proud.

The sky is the same purple hue as it was at dawn. A rich, brilliant purple. From the top of the mountain, all is visible. The grass. The stones. Even the plum tree. This is an amazing feeling. Anything is possible.

Stone Soup · Children’s Art Foundation · Since 1973