How Mountains Grow

A mountain straining for the sky and the girl that lives in its shadow.

“No! Victoria, put that down! That’s not for eating! Alexandra, I thought you were watching her. Samuel, stop trying to--Thomas! We do not bite! Look, just-just-settle down! There. Look, come closer. Gather around, that’s it, and I will tell you how mountains grow.”

Once upon a time there was nothing but plains. For as far as the eye could see. Long, yellowish grass wound with rivers, like tears running through hair. It stretched on and on. Wind rushed across the land and everything bent to it. There was no force stronger than the wind that could make the grass bow and the animals curl up, squeezing their eyes shut...but I’ve gotten off track. This story is not about the wind. It is about mountains.

“Shh, don’t laugh. The story is meant to be educational, not fun-oh never mind.”

The first mountain stood tall and strong. It rose up and up, above the grass and trees, but still not higher than the wind. It strained and reached, thinking to touch the sky, desperately wanting just to scrape it. For millennia it stood so, reaching higher and higher to touch that eternal blue, to be taller than the wind. At the bottom of the mountain, nestled in the boulders and hard ground that made up its roots, was a village. It had grown in the mountains shadow to escape the wind, but the refuge was a slight one. Even there the wind blew, hard and cold, ripping up what crops they had and blowing dust so they could hardly see.

They were a strong people that lived in it, raised alongside the mountain and growing against the wind. Day after day they worked. Farming what the wind had left them and quarrying and building into the mountain. On and on they went, driven to find somewhere that was safe from the cruel wind. The mountain was a great power to them. It was strong and immovable, defying the wind, but still not able to overcome it.

“Alexandra, Victoria’s trying to eat it again. Here, throw it in the bin. Okay. Now. Where were we?”

One day a bird landed on the shoulder of a girl. Her name was Epimoni.

“Yes, really, Thomas. No. It’s a real word. It means perseverance. Now sit back down and-look here’s some gum okay? Now stop trying to bite Samuel.”

Epimoni paused in her work and turned her face to the bird. The slight creature, all of pale yellow feathers, titled his head and fluttered across to a rock. After watching the bird for a moment Epimoni looked about herself. She saw the rough land her village lived on and the dust that rolled across the plains beyond it. All of it was in shadow, blocked by the tall mountain. Epimoni turned to look at it and lost her breath at the sight of it towering above her. This mountain, so great and strong, could stand up to the wind. Yet, even the mountain reached upward , straining higher. It wanted not just to brace itself against the lasting wind, but to overcome it, to reach higher. To touch the sky.

Craning her neck, Epimoni searched for it, but could only see a sliver of blue for being close to the mountain. For the first time she wondered what was beyond her village, what was beyond the work she did day after day. Surely to see the sky, to see the edges that hid behind the mountain and touch it as the mountain strained to, would be too wonderful to imagine. Surely far up there, at the very top, the wind didn’t howl.

With a soft twitter the small yellow bird fluttered to the next rock as if he would lead the way. As much as Epimoni wanted to follow the creature, something held her back. Hesitantly, Epimoni went to her mother. When her mother heard her idea she shook her head and laughed and told her daughter that there was nothing more to the mountain or to the sky than what could be seen from right there. Try as Epimoni might, she could not convince her mother, could not even explain to her, the heavy beating of her heart when she thought of what was beyond the village, what the mountain reached for that was higher than the wind.

That night, Epimoni woke to a scratching at the window. Scratch scratch scratch. The sound nagged at her, crawled beneath her skin and tugged at her heart. Scratch scratch scratch. Come out. Scratch scratch scratch. Epimoni tossed and turned all night, struggling between following her mother and following the bird. At last, just before the sky lightened, she threw back her covers. Hurrying outside, her eyes were immediately drawn to the mountain. Even in the darkness. Even with the cold, relentless wind, it still reached for the sky.

With the first rays of light, before anyone had even properly opened an eye, Epimoni began to climb. At first she raced the light, moving easily across the rocky slopes, scrambling over and around boulders, boosting herself up ledges. The bird was always ahead of her. It hopped from rock to rock, from ledge to ledge, leading the way. By afternoon Epimoni had tired and the way was steeper and the light was far ahead of her. The sky seemed even farther away than it had been that morning. However, the bird still led on, so still Epimoni climbed. She was determined to reach even farther than the mountain, to be higher than the wind, to see everything that was around her, to touch the sky.

Epimoni climbed all day and, in her eagerness, she climbed through the night as well. Only the sounds of the bird, its scratching on rocks, showed her the way up the dark mountain. When morning came, she still climbed. Epimoni did not acknowledge her tiredness. She only had a mind for the yearning inside her that grew and grew and the certainty that she would make it. The yellow bird led Epimoni as she climbed for six days and nights.

“Samuel. If I say it happened, it happened. Okay? It’s a story. No! She didn’t need to eat or sleep she was on a journey. Samuel! Fine! Write your own if you’re unhappy, but be quiet. You’re ruining it.”

Finally the day came when the light greeted Epimoni at the top of the mountain. She reached it just as dawn came and stood there, staring all around her. She was so high that all she could see were the clouds beneath her and the sky above her. Her breath whispered from her at the sight of it. There was no wind. There was no bowing grass or stinging dirrt. There was only sky. Blue sky that expanded in all directions, larger than anything she had ever imagined. All that sky, going on and on forever. It was everything. It was greater than the village or the mountain she had climbed. It was greater even than the wind. The bird landed on her shoulder for just a second. Then, with a flick of wings, it dove into the clouds and disappeared.

Epimoni reached up, straining every part of her to touch the sky. She felt like the mountain, felt that if only she could touch the sky everything would be right. With every ounce of her being, she willed herself taller, closer to the sky. Another six days and nights passed as she stood, reaching, yearning to brush the hope that had driven her up the mountain, even for just a second. Beneath her, the mountain strained, trying to lift her as it tried to lift itself. The longer the girl tried the more like the mountain she became and, slowly, she changed, until there was no difference. Epimoni’s toes turned to stone and the mountain worked itself up her, taking her, reaching with her, needing to go higher. As the stone worked its way up her, Epimoni reached even farther. Just as her fingers hardened...she thought she brushed the sky.