A memory

Just read a segment about someone sitting on a mountain ridge that brought back memories from so many years ago when I thought literally being at the top of a KY mountain ridge would give me the peace I was looking for at that time.
I was at the top of that ridge. You had to drive to the top of the mountain to reach my driveway and once you passed the driveway, it was all down hill from there.
Most times you had to walk the half mile or so to get to the cabin hidden amongst trees and clouds.
At a time that was kind of tumultous and seemingly dramatic at a time I felt a great need to get away, I had the opportunity to hide from the human race that I was familiar with, and rarely come out into a public that did not have a clue who I was. Twice a month I would start my descend of the mountain to get the absolute essentials to survive. Dry goods one day and then whatever the next day. All would fit into my backpack because I needed to have my arms free for my 2 year-old that was sharing this space with me at the time. I could not and did not expect this child to walk all the miles it was entailed to do this trek.
Halfway down the mountain, or up depending on which direction I might be traveling was a little country store that had everything you could ever imagine but hardly anything you really needed. All I needed in the wintry months was the pot bellied stove to warm my child and myself for a short break in the hike. Did I mention that the only way to travel the steep incline in the winter with a vehicle was to have 4 wheel drive and spikes on your tires. I had neither.
I used to sit and stare and dream my dreams, write my minds thoughts and then revert back to them once in awhile and astonish myself with how intelligent I seemed (once in awhile), then there were times I thought how stupid I was for the thoughts I had written.
The many times I hauled water from the spring, chopped wood for heat and cooking, I never remember complaining of the chore. In fact, I loved it. It filled my time with exercise and to do things, to do with my young daughter. I wanted her to appreciate the finer things that nature had for us to enjoy.
Sitting quietly watching wildlife going through their own rituals of daily survival. The beauty of watching growth, animals and plants. Going to the cliffs right behind the cabin, seeing in the distance the beauty of lights miles away, the wonder of being on the top of the world seeing what we saw. It was awesome.
Then one day in the spring I started the car up, traveled the highway to the town I had left,(for what reason I cannot remember) came back to the cabin, packed up all I cherished and moved back to the city and jumped right back into the mess I had left.
Ho hum.....kind of wish there was another cabin at the top of a mountain in this season of my life, in a close proxmity of family so I could retire, collect my Social security, sit back, watch nature, plant my flowers, my veggies, collect my senses (what is left, anyhow) and just enjoy what is left of my life.
Is that being kind of reclusive? I could enjoy that, really I could. I could end up with the wild hair, LOL, I just wouldn't have the beard.. ;~)