It's been a while since I last passed this way. The view has changed. I've changed. I'm tall enough to see over the hedge. The house on the hill seems closer than I remember. They have planted wheat again. I loved playing in the wheat, feeling the crunch of stalks under my shoes. And the smell. Like the cow sheds. Or the mattress I slept on.
I know my way from here as if I walked it yesterday. A steep climb to the gates, then a push through the brambles and nettles to the fence where I could follow to the house. Someone's dog would bark. In summer I could pick berries and watch bees suck nectar.
No point in going that way now. The house is gone and the memories are fading. I can still hear a dog barking. A reminder, maybe, that somethings never change.
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