House on Top of the Hill

I have recurring dreams about the house on the hill.   It’s been 66 years since I was there, but in my dreams, I am walking the footpath that leads up to the clearing where the house sits among fruit trees, a garden patch & animal pens.  Once I reach the house, I see it’s a small bungalow with four rooms & a porch that runs the length of the front side of the house.

The house had electricity but no modern conveniences.  There was a wood stove for cooking but no running water.  Drinking & cooking water was brought up from a house at the bottom of the hill.  A large circular tank collected rainwater for washing, cleaning & watering the garden.

My life started in this 4-room house.  I was a newborn, carried up the footpath & I doubt I left the hill until I was old enough to walk alone.  I had a sister, 18 months older, & there were no baby beds or equipment.  My grandparents had two double beds pushed against the wall opposite each other.  I  slept in one bed against the wall with a grandparent in front & my sister slept in the opposite bed with the other grandparent.  The grandparent was our safety shield which kept us from rolling out of bed.  When we were old enough to walk, the hillside was our playground.  There were no threats because no one had business coming up the footpath.  

I look back now & wonder how our few pieces of furniture got up the hill.  The footpath needed to be wider for a wagon, so items were likely carried up by hand.

When I was 6, we moved to the bottom of the hill into the big house.  I say big because it had five rooms instead of 4.  As a little girl, feeling “safe” in the big house took a long time.  There was an upstairs attic that always felt eerie.  Sometimes I had to take things up to the attic for my grandmother.  The light switch was at the entrance before going up the stairs, & my sister would deliberately turn off the light & lock the door so that I couldn’t get out.  Both great-grandmothers passed away in the house & when you are a kid, death is not so easy to deal with.  I had my first of many nightmares in that house & I slept with the covers so tight over my head that I felt I would smother to death.

This is not a picture of the house but closely resembles the one on the hill.  I’ve done a Google satellite search to see if it shows an area where the house would have been, but all that comes up is the woods.  

I don’t know why my dreams take me back to the hill.  Maybe I have unfinished business or happy memories of a beginning that was lived a lot like the book Heidi.  I don’t see myself ever going back, but if I could have a wish, it would be to walk the footpath again, come to the clearing at the top of the hill & see the little house just one more time.