Visiting my cousins was always an adventure. (see previous post, "It's Comic. It's Tragic.")
One year, we went hiking through the woods around their house. We came upon several boulders that had been arranged as a shelter; three walls and a roof. My cousins said it had been done a few months before, there was no longer trace of where the boulders had been.
It was very cool to see from a distance but, closer, it was somber. The air didn't seem to move. There was an unexplained heaviness around us. We, my cousins and siblings and I, just moved around the primitive shelter. Our silence added to the silence surrounding us.
Walking away from it, Nature seemed to waken. Even our feet crunching the frozen ground seemed alive by comparison.
I was drawn to the stone hut but I never knew why. I went out on my own and eventually found it. I went inside (for the first time); it was large enough for me, a child, to stand up and spread my arms to my sides just touching the walls. Now, it is difficult for me to imagine the dimensions so I must rely upon my memory of it.
Inside, the world seemed far away. The open face let in light from the world around but it was as if there were no sound allowed. Facing the light, I felt as if something were trying to pull me backwards, away from the world. But turning and facing the dark, I felt as if I were drawn back into the world of light. It was very disconcerting.
Walking back, my brothers found me. They told me I was in big trouble and would be sent home ahead of everyone else, alone. I might even miss out on Christmas. When we got back to my aunt's house, Mom was not upset at all; my brothers had mislead me. But I wasn't allowed to wander beyond sight of the house alone again.