Home on the Mountain

The dawning, yawning morning meekly beckoned as its first rays wiggled through the white sheer curtains, landing gently upon the closed eyes of the bed’s lone occupant. A middle-aged man. His hair more gray than brown, but still possessing the smiley optimism of a man still firmly in his prime. 

As his eyelids slowly opened, James became aware of the empty spot in the bed next to him. And of the sound of running water. Of a shower behind the closed bathroom door. 

James smiled to himself as he eased quietly out of bed. On tiptoes, he snuck out of the bedroom and headed to the kitchen. 

The first order of business: brew some coffee. James loaded the single serve coffee maker with a couple scoops of Sumatra and pushed the button. 

Then he set the oven to 400 degrees. 

Then he went to the fridge. 

As he pulled out the preprepared ingredients, James smiled to himself. 

Preparation is king. 

James grabbed a frying pan from the cabinet next to the stove. Clicked on the burner. Sprayed some olive oil spray. Dumped in some spiralized sweet potato slices. Some already cooked turkey bacon. 

As the contents of the pan heated up, James retrieved a couple single serve ramekins from another cabinet. Sprayed them with the same spray. Set the dishes on the counter. 

 The preheat timer on the oven dinged. 

James removed the contents from the frying pan, dividing the potato and bacon between the two ramekins. 

Then he cracked two eggs, placing one in each dish. 

Then a sprinkle of his special roasted garlic seasoning. 

Then into the oven they went. 

James listened intently. Heard the sound of the hair dryer. 

He still had time. 

Next, he sliced an avocado in half. Then he removed the pit, then the skin. Then he dumped the halves into a bowl. Began mushing and smushing the avocado. Then another sprinkle of the roasted garlic seasoning. 

James took two slices of multigrain bread from the bag and put both in the toaster. Left them there to wait. The toast would be last. 

Then he pulled some silverware from the drawer and set two places at the kitchen counter. 

As the last of the coffee spluttered into the cup, James walked to the fridge and retrieved some creamer. As he closed the door, he could see his wife sitting at the kitchen counter. And, even after all these years, James could not help but stare at the beautiful woman with the elegantly regal white hair flowing down to her terrycloth robe and the twinkling, mischievous eyes. 

“Now what are you getting into in here?” his wife, Pamela, asked playfully. 

“Oh nothing. Just making my beautiful wife some breakfast,” he replied as he walked over to the toaster. 

James then walked over to the coffee maker, poured a dollop of creamer into the cup and walked the still steaming brew over to his expectant bride. 

Pamela accepted the mug gratefully as she surveyed the kitchen, hoping to glean some intel about the breakfast menu that morning. 

As if on cue, the timer on the oven dinged again. James put on an oven mitt and removed the two dishes from the oven, setting them on the stovetop. Then the toast popped up. 

James retrieved a plate from the cabinets by the sink then set about applying the avocado spread to the toast. 

Pamela watched as the feast came together, gleefully murmuring about how good everything looked. 

James first brought over the avocado toast. Then the ramekins. Then he sat on the stool next to his wife. 

“Ooooh, you cooked my favorite!” Pamela exclaimed as she picked up her fork. 

“I didn’t know this was your favorite breakfast,” James replied. 

“Everything you make is my favorite,” she replied with a wink. The same wink that always made James melt. 

As they ate, they ate in silence. The warm, cozy silence familiar to a comfortably content couple. 

Only when the coffee mug had run empty, when the ramekins had been picked clean, did James feel the need to break up that lovely bit of quiet. 

“Are you excited for the meeting today?” 

Pamela put down her fork. Looked at her husband and smiled. 

“You know I am.” 

“I had some new ideas last night. I wanna show you.” 

James hopped off his stool and dashed towards his office. He snatched a set of blueprints off his desk and headed back into the kitchen.  

“Look at this…” James started, before abruptly stopping. 

He looked at his wife. Still seated on her stool. But her smile nowhere to be found. 

“Are you ok?’ James asked, his concern evident. 

“My stomach’s a little upset. I think I need to run to the little girl’s room,” Pamela replied with a forced smile before heading off towards the bathroom. 

“OK honey. Please let me know if you need anything,” James called after her. 

James sat down on the stool. Unrolled the blueprints and started to prepare to share his new ideas when his wife returned. 

The blueprints. 

Their dream. 

When the kids had started to get older, James and Pamela, like a lot of soon-to-be empty nesters, began to daydream about what life would look like when their kids left home to live their own lives. 

As the years passed, idle conversations turned into tenuous plans. Then when their youngest, their daughter Cece, left for college, James and Pamela started meeting with realtors. 

They began their search in a quaint mountain town where the whole family had vacationed several times over the years. Found some lovely properties. Nothing felt quite right. 

But they loved the town. 

On a whim, James had jokingly proposed that they build their own home. Since no one had been able to build one worthy of their golden years. 

He couldn’t believe that Pamela had immediately agreed. 

So, the couple began meeting with an architect.  

Today, if everything went to plan, could be the last meeting before they started building their new home on the mountain. 

After several moments, and his wife had still not returned, James forced himself from the daydream and hopped off his stool. 

He went to the guest bathroom. Not there. 

He went into the master bedroom. Not there. 

He went into the master bathroom. Not there either. 

“Babe, where are you? 

James walked back into the kitchen. Pamela was still nowhere to be found. But he did hear the clink clink clink the old ceiling fan on the back porch made when turned on. 

He opened the back door and there, sitting on the couch, was Pamela. 

But in the afternoon sun, his vibrant wife appeared less so. Gone were the luxurious alabaster locks. In their place a silken kerchief clinging tightly to her head. 

As her husband walked out onto the back porch, Pamela reclined, lying her head against the back cushion of the couch. After an audible sigh from the effort, she patted the cushion next to her. 

“There you are. Come sit with me,” Pamela said, her voice smaller, more encumbered. 

James complied. Once he assumed the seat next to his wife, she shifted, laying her head in his lap. 

Pamela looked up at James. A twinkle dancing among the dullness in her eyes. 

“So tell me. What additions have you dreamed up for our home on the mountain?” 

At the mention of their passion project, James felt enlivened. His mind chased away his concerns for his suddenly enfeebled wife. 

In their place, a lovely A-frame home sprouted from a hillside overlooking a river. 

An expansive porch with a pair of rocking chairs. 

A fire pit with live wood benches to one side of the porch. 

A bubbling hot tub to the other. 

And around back, a garden littered with raised beds filled with cherry tomatoes, cucumbers and peppers. 

James rambled on a length, reiterating their shared vision interspersed with his recent brainstorms. Pamela nodded along, eyes closed, murmuring happily as she pictured their utopia for the millionth time. So caught up in the moment, James failed to notice the absence of the usual collaborative back and forth. In fact, he only stopped when Pamela asked for a glass of water. 

“Of course. I’ll be right back,” he replied. 

James gently lifted his wife’s head from his leg. Gently guided her head to the couch cushion. Then set off inside to retrieve the glass of water. 

As he stood at the sink filling the glass, James wondered if they would be late to the appointment with the architect. If Pamela would even be well enough to attend. 

The glass overflowed, spilling water onto his hand, snapping James back to the present. He turned off the faucet. Tipped the glass over to remove some water from the overfilled glass. Pamela didn’t need any more than a sip or two. 

James dried the outside of the glass with a hand towel. Tossed the towel on the counter. And headed back out to the porch. 

The now empty porch. 

Where has she gone now? 

James reentered the house, readying to search for his wife again. Not two steps back into the house, he heard something coming from the bedroom. 

A weak, almost inaudible voice. Calling his name. 

Water glass in hand, James walked across the living room. To the bedroom. 

He turned the knob and opened the door.  

The room was pitch black. Apart from the glow of medical devices on the far side of the bed. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out a shape, a blanket covered mound, on the bed. 

“Oh good. You heard me. And you brought water,” a voice rasped from beneath the blankets. 

As James walked towards the bed, the mound receded, and Pamela emerged. Her head still wrapped in the silken kerchief. But her face more gaunt, more pale. 

James stifled a sob as he helped Pamela sit up. Helped her drink a sip of water. 

His radiant, dynamic paramour. His resplendent, darling partner. Reduced to little more than a hollowed out husk.  

“What are you thinking?” she asked. 

“Nothing,” James replied. 

But she knew. She always knew. 

“Will you lay with me for a moment?” 

“Of course.” 

James gently eased himself into bed next to his wife. 

“Tell me about the home on the mountain. Please.” 

And they laid in bed, talking about the home on the mountain. Like they had done so many times before. 

About the lovely A-frame home on a hillside overlooking a river. 

About the expansive porch with a pair of rocking chairs. 

About the fire pit with live wood benches to one side of the porch. 

About the bubbling hot tub to the other. 

And about the garden around back littered with raised beds filled with cherry tomatoes, cucumbers and peppers. 

They talked and talked. Until their eyelids became heavy and they yielded to the darkness. 

** 

Morning once again beckoned. But the gentle nudging of the day’s first rays was replaced with a pounding sound in the distance. 

James once again slowly opened his eyes. Found himself alone in bed. But the shower remained silent. 

Only the pounding could be heard. 

James looked at the medical devices looming over the bed on the far side. Their darkened screens offering nothing. 

Despite his confusion, James wanted to address the pounding so he eased himself out of bed and walked to the door. 

As he opened the bedroom door, the pounding became more pronounced. More clearly coming from the front door. 

James walked across the house to the front door. Looked out the window.  

Standing at the front door were his son, Philip, and his daughter, Cece. 

Now more confused than ever, he opened the front door. 

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Philip asked without preamble, without greeting. 

James looked at his wrist. His watch was not there. He reached into his pocket. Pulled out his phone. Checked the time. 

“Oh my gosh. We’ve overslept. Our appointment is in a half hour! I better go check on your mother,” James replied before hurrying back towards the bedroom. 

Philip looked to Cece. 

“What is he talking about?” 

“Oh no. I guess they had an appointment with the architect today. I’m worried. Do you think…,” Cece replied, worry evident in her voice. 

“Let’s get him dressed,” Philip interrupted. 

The siblings followed their father into the bedroom. James returned from the bathroom as they entered. 

“I don’t know where your mother is,” James started. 

“Pop, mom is gone,” Philip replied. 

“Gone? Gone where? What about the appointment?” 

Cece stepped forward. Wrapped her father in a hug as she fought back tears. Philip went through the bathroom. Towards the walk in closet. 

“Let’s get you dressed. We can take you to see her.” 

Philip emerged from the bathroom. A suit in hand. 

Though thoroughly confused, James allowed his insistent offspring to help him get dressed.  

Philip helped his father tighten his tie. Then he and Cece stepped back to inspect their efforts. 

“Your watch. You should have your watch,” Cece blurted suddenly before heading to the dresser to retrieve her father’s watch. The watch Pamela had given James on his fiftieth birthday. The only piece of jewelry he had ever worn. Apart from his wedding ring. 

Cece stopped in front of the dresser and stared. 

“There is… a note,” she said. 

“A note?” James asked. 

Without another word, Cece retrieved the watch, and the note tucked underneath.  Handed both to her father. 

James opened the folded note. Read the words. Written in his wife’s hand. 

So, if you’re reading this note, I’m not here anymore. I know you are going to be sad. But don’t be.  

I have a new home.  

Our home on the mountain.  

You might be saying to yourself: how is that possible? We never even finalized the plans with the architect. We never laid the foundation. Never built the walls or the roof. Never built the porch where you could paint. Never installed that hot tub I’ve always wanted.  

But despite those pesky facts, I’m sitting on that front porch, sipping coffee, enjoying the fresh mountain air, listening to the whoosh of the river down below. And look, the tomatoes have come in. 

Don’t worry about me. I’ve got plenty of company. Alex is nestled at my feet, hoping I drop some of my country ham biscuit. In fact, all our old fur babies are here. Blaze. Snickers. The whole gang. 

You see we didn’t need concrete and brick and wood to build our home on the mountain.  

No sir.  

We’ve been building it all along. Every time we talked together. Every time we dreamed together.   

So, our home on the mountain is finished, but it won’t be complete until you are here with me. 

Until then, just close your eyes and you can come visit. 

I’ll see you when you’re ready.  

Love you to the moon and back, 

Pam 

James let the note fall to the floor. Closed his eyes for a moment. And wept. 

Philip and Cece wrapped their arms around James and refused to let go.