Ode To Big Hill

There was a special place that barely exists anymore. A place I hold fondly in my heart as do most of the people who grew up in my neighborhood. Big Hill was, well, a big hill. We were kids, and perhaps not very creative, but the name described it perfectly. Some years ago, I wrote a poem about the significance of Big Hill. It Describes that special place better than I can even attempt to write about in a blog, and it actually brought tears to many who loved Big Hill as I did. So Without Further Ado, here is the poem.....

Big Hill

Big Hill.
A place where children could capture
butterflies, fireflies,
and incense.
A place for imagination, wonder,
and fantasy.
A climb to the top of Big Hill was a feat
like that of a mountain climber.
Summer time picnics,
winter time sledding.
Neighborhood friends playing
Capture the Flag and King of the Hill.
A place where we really were
on top of the world.

A peaceful place where catching a glimpse
of an occasional deer was
not uncommon.
A time when our only worry was
making it home for dinner on time.
The sounds of our youthful laughter
still audible even today.
A place where innocence was found
and also lost.
Big Hill.

As we grew taller,
Big Hill grew smaller.
Today, barely visible only
to those of us who knew of its existence.
A minuscule mound covered with trees
and memories.
Big Hill.
The symbol of my childhood.
Vanishing more and more
every year.
Eventually, not existing
at all.

9/8/03