Our mountain. Our safe place.
We could see the world from up there, we owned it. We would lean over on the side with the view of the valley, the wind blowing into our faces, making our clothes billow up like balloons around us, it felt like we were flying.
I remember how we would play on the gigantic rocks surrounded by dry yellow grass as tall as we were, we’d watch the sun disappear over the horizon. Those rocks were our castle and the grass was filled with terrible brown snakes ready to strike at any moment, we’d count to 3 then jump off and run through it shrieking, laughing and stomping our feet, back to our bicycles and home for tea.