The Curly Hill Road.

19 Nov

It was steep and it was curvy with switchbacks and dips. And it was dark even in the daytime with deep ravines. The first few times I drove it, I had a heightened sense of danger at every curve. One of the curves seemed endless and it surprised me the first twenty times I navigated it.

We lived on a hill about three miles from the nearest shopping hub. There was a local Mom and Pop about a mile away and the schools were within walking distance but everything else was in town. No matter what you had to do, you had to get off the hill. To the doctors, the library, preschool, grocery store and of course, work.

The curly hill road was the most direct route to everything civilized and non rural. We would leave our little Nirvana and travel to the next big city to get a taste of the good life that everyone else seemed to wallow in.

Our favorite haunt away from home was Bellevue Square. It was the antithesis of our existence but we loved being in that scene. On a rainy wintry day it was an indoor haven where we would spend hours. It was brightly lit, there were places to eat and stores galore where we could buy the necessities that were not available in our little town. And that was practically everything. We were mall rats. I would let the kids loose on the unsuspecting public and have a latte near Nordstroms. They always knew where to find me. I would give them an hour to shop and meet me at a designated time and place. I would give them a spending limit and accompany each to to the store of their choice to pay. Somewhere along the way we would have lunch.

The lights and the crowds would eventually get on my nerves and it was time to leave. We left and finally came back to the curly hill, the portal to our little castle on the hill.


3 Responses to “The Curly Hill Road.”

  1. sk8creteordie December 19, 2014 at 7:10 am #

    Nice! Wow, that brings up a ton of memories. You forgot to mention how you eventually got to know the curly hill rode very well, and drove it like a Bat out of Hell… especially the long corner. Remember that house, and the goat that was eating the side of it?

  2. Jake December 19, 2014 at 7:22 am #

    Nice piece grandma! I love reading stuff about good memories πŸ™‚ makes me excited for my non fiction class! You’re a good writer gramma! I’ll be reading more often πŸ™‚

    • maryeoconnor December 20, 2014 at 1:55 am #

      Thanks Jake, that means a lot coming from you. I love telling stories!

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