The Winds of Wicklow Mountain

“PawPaw,” Aiden called out, his seven-year-old voice tweaking the inflection on the term of endearment for his grandpa. “It looks like it’s gonna rain on our heads. We should hurry to the top of the hill, PawPaw. Mom will be mad if I come back muddy. She’ll make me take a bath before dinner if I’m muddy. I don’t want to be muddy. And I really don’t want a bath, PawPaw. Let’s skip up the trail!”

PawPaw didn’t respond. He just continued to whistle, watching as Aiden skipped up the trail, kicking up tiny bursts of dust with each skip.

PawPaw’s whistling skills were precise, crisp. The tune he was whistling was a short tune, exactly forty notes. It was a made-up tune, much like most people’s whistles are. Much like most hums are. Even so, Aiden clearly knew the tune well because every time the song came to a certain point in the tune, Aiden would clap twice, PawPaw would finish up the song, wait a few seconds then start the tune over. They were a duo, of sorts.

The sky was peppered with dark, fluffy rain clouds. Not the kind that guaranteed rain, but the kind of clouds that would make you hurry along if you were outside working on the yard or walking home from the market. Your museum walk would quickly turn into a brisk walk in a flash.

The cool breeze made the wet air feel colder than it really was. Along the hillside, the tall grass danced in the wind, appearing to move with the beat of PawPaw’s tune.

Aiden shoved the tip of his shoe into a small mound of dirt on the hiking trail, kicking up a sizable dust cloud that the breeze carried along the hillside, tiny wisps danced one way while, then the next, also appearing to move with the PawPaw's tune.

PawPaw noticed the dust dancing around. Not wanting mud to form in his nostrils, he slowed down, trying to wait for the dust cloud to dissipate. He failed, though. The dust cloud made a left turn with a gusty breeze and hit him smack in the face. But the whistling never stopped. Just like in his days during the Civil War, the whistling would never stop, unless he died, or so he said.

Against his best intentions, he stopped whistling and held his breath for a few seconds, waiting for the dust cloud to pass. A small dust devil formed on the path and Aiden tried to jump in the middle of it, hoping it would pick him up off his feet, giggling the entire time.

When the dust cleared, PawPaw machine-gunned little bursts of air out of his pursed lips, trying to clear the dust from his mouth. It was as though he had inhaled bugs and he was trying to spit them out.

“Okay, no more kicking the dirt while I’m behind you,” PawPaw called out, wiping the dust off his face with a plaid handkerchief. “My old lungs have a hard enough time hiking up this trail each day. When you add dust to the equation, my breathing gets really tricky.” He coughed into his handkerchief a few times, clearing his lungs. Something that looked like blood-filled mucous was in the handkerchief. He was alarmed, but not scared. Recently, his coughs brought up more than clear phlegm. Specks of blood.

Aiden ran back and hugged PawPaw, squeezing him tightly and burying his head into PawPaw’s hip: “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for the dirt to hit you and make it hard for you to breathe,” Aiden said as he released PawPaw. “I was just skipping along the trail, dancing to your whistles like I always do.” Aiden pointed to PawPaw’s cheek. “You better get that bit of dirt off your cheek or mom will make you take a bath, too.”

Aiden turned and resumed skipping up the trail, careful not to kick up dust. PawPaw wiped the dust off his cheek and smiled, admiring Aiden’s innocence. He resumed his whistling.

“When are you going to teach me how to whistle, PawPaw,” Aiden called out while he skipped up the hill. He puckered his lips and blew clumsily, mostly spitting into the air. “See, I can’t whistle.” He puckered again, looking like he was trying to blow out the candles on a cake. “See...nothing!”

“I’ll teach you when you can learn to sit still for a minute,” PawPaw said under his breath. “Soon,” he shouted out, loud enough so that Aiden could hear him. “Soon, Aiden.”

“When are you going to tell me why we’ve been hiking up this hill each day to put air in these bottles,” Aiden called out, holding up a glass bottle he had been carrying. The glass bottle was old, with trapped air bubble in the glass. The top was capped with an old cork, crumbling at the edges.

Aiden stopped skipping and turned around, facing PawPaw. “Does the air even stay in the bottles after we capture it up the mountain? It seems like each time I take the cork off to catch the wind, the wind just blows over the top of the bottle, making a cool sound in the process. Seems like we could just do this little trick in the backyard.”

“Of course the air stays in the bottle,” PawPaw responded, catching up to Aiden. “You are correct that when the wind blows over the mouth of the bottle, it makes a sound. That sound means that air’s going inside the bottle, filling the bottle from the bottom to the top." PawPaw gave Aiden a little nudge on the shoulder, then continued: "Take the bottle to the top of the mountain and take the cork out. I will meet you up there. See if you can burn some of that energy of yours before we head back for supper.”

Aiden skipped up the trail, faster this time, reaching the top of the hill a few seconds later.

There was an old Scarlet Oak tree at the top of the hill, maybe seventy feet tall, and the only tree for miles in every direction. It’s red leaves rustled in the cool autumn wind, creating a red blanket on the ground as the wind jostled the leaves from the tree’s crown. A lone butterfly flitted over the leaves, getting caught in the wind before realizing that going with the wind was easier than fighting it.

Aiden slowly ran in circles around the oak tree, trying his best to whistle through his puckered lips, whipping the bottle around in the air like it was a prize. The cork was still on the bottle.

“Don’t drop that bottle, young man,” PawPaw said.

“I won’t,” Aiden said in a sing-song voice. “I’ve got this, PawPaw. Look,” he said, pointing to the ground as the leaves bounced off his shoes. “I’m not kicking up any dust. Ha!” He grinned the way only a kid could grin thinking that he'd won some imaginary contest against himself.

PawPaw reached the top of the hill, coughing into his handkerchief in the process. He stopped next to the old oak tree, resting his elbow against the tree as he caught his breath. He scanned the horizon, taking in all the beauty, smiling as Aiden skipped around him and great oak.

Aiden stopped next to PawPaw and tugged at the edge of PawPaw's coat.

“Okay,” Aiden said, breathing heavily from all the running. His little cheeks were rosy. “Let’s capture some wind.”

PawPaw gave him a thumbs-up. "Capture a good one, boy."

Aiden wrapped his little hand around the base of the antique-looking bottle and grabbed the cork with his other hand. He pulled on the cork with all his might, buckling over as he tried to get more leverage. After a few twists and pulls and come-ons, a pop was heard as the cork left the mouth of the bottle.

“Now hold the bottle really high in the wind,” PawPaw said, reaching his own hand up in the air as an example. "Arms out as far as you can."

"I know, PawPaw. You tell me every time." Aiden held the bottle as high as he could, grunting as he tried to make himself taller. He mustered up the strength to get himself even taller on his tiptoes.

The wind picked up, rustling the oak tree’s leaves, knocking some loose. For a moment, it looked as though the raining leaves were creating a sort of tornado effect around the tree, like there was an invisible vortex around the tree.

Aiden slowly angled the bottle in the wind, patiently waiting for the bottle to make its sound, that beautiful hum. Based on the size of this particular bottle, Aiden had guessed that the sound would be high-pitched, not the giant bottle from the other day that let out a deep bass tone. But whatever sound the bottle made, Aiden knew that that sound was his cue that he was holding the bottle in the wind correctly, capturing the wind as PawPaw had taught him to.

After a little repositioning of the bottle, a high-pitched note hummed from the bottle. Aiden’s face lit up. The high-pitched note filled the air like a one-note siren. But the siren wasn't piercing. The note was loud, yet soothing.

PawPaw smiled: "Thata boy," he whispered. "Capture that note."

PawPaw closed his eyes, and quietly enjoyed the vibrations that danced through his ears. He puckered his lips and softly whistled the note the bottle was making, mimicking it exactly.

“There you go,” PawPaw said. “Let that bottle enjoy the note. Let that bottle capture all the brilliance that note has to offer...” His voice trailed off as he resumed whistling the exact note, creating a stereophonic effect. The sound of the note was all around them.

“Now hurry,” PawPaw called out. “Put the cork in fast!”

Aiden lowered the bottle and slammed the cork inside the bottle’s mouth, buckling over to push the cork in as far as his little muscles would let him.

“Just like that,” PawPaw whispered. "Just like that."

Aiden held the bottle high, like he was presenting a trophy.

“Tada!” Aiden shouted. “I got it! I got the note.”

“Good job. Now let’s get that bottle home and see what your ma's fixin’ for supper,” PawPaw said, excited.

“Good idea!” Aiden shouted. "Can I run down?"

"As long as you don't fall and hurt yourself."

"Of course I won't!" Aiden took off down the trail, skipping and humming.

PawPaw looked on, smiling, reveling in the innocence of youth.

#

Aiden and PawPaw entered their house. Aiden’s mom was in the kitchen, apron on, cooking up something that smelled like a mixture of bacon, garlic, and French fries.

“Mom,” Aiden shouted even though he was only a few feet from where she stood. “PawPaw is starving and he’s not muddy, so I don’t think he needs to take a bath before dinner. Am I right? Am I right?" He hopped excitedly, ending up by his mom's side, letting her kiss the top of his head.

“Are you sure it’s PawPaw that’s hungry and not you?” His mom said playfully. She rubbed the tip of her index finger across the tip of his nose, the way playful mothers usually do.

Aiden looked up at her, smiling mischievously. “Welllllll, I’m hungry, too!” Aiden perked up, standing tall. “PawPaw used a lot of energy hiking up that hill today. He needs food to replace his energy so he can do it again tomorrow, and so he doesn't get skinny. And he promises not to get muddy tomorrow.” He winked at his mom.

“We actually don’t have any bottles left,” PawPaw said. “That was the last one.”

“So we’re not hiking tomorrow?” Aiden asked, disappointed. “But I want to hike. I promise I won’t get muddy.” He was genuinely sad.

His mom looked down at his shoes, noting his shoes were filthy. She didn’t say anything, though. She knew those shoes were his play shoes.

“We can hike if you’d like. We just don’t have a bottle to take,” PawPaw responded. "Maybe we can take some paper and draw when we're up there?"

“PawPaw, I wish you would tell me why we need these bottles,” Aiden chirped. "What's the big surprise with these bottles?"

Aiden's mom eyed PawPaw, as though they were both hiding a secret and she needed to shut the conversation down before one of them leaked info: “Okay, mister, go wash up,” she said to Aiden, patting him on the bottom, scooting him out of the kitchen. “You and PawPaw can talk about the bottles later. OK?”

“Wait, wait,” Aiden exclaimed, bouncing up in the air. “I need to go put this bottle upstairs first. It needs to be with the rest. I’ll do that then wash up. I promise! OK?”

“OK,” his mom said, smiling at his vivaciousness. "Go get clean, Aiden."

Aiden ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs, his little footsteps echoing off the wood steps.

Aiden’s mom looked over at PawPaw. He winked at her and they shared an innocent smile.

#

Aiden entered his room and turned on the light. It was dark outside so without the light on, his room would be near pitch black, only illuminated by the crescent moon outside his window. It's not that he was afraid of the dark. He was more afraid of what he couldn't see in the dark, like the random scorpions and tarantulas that roamed inside the house this time of year.

His room looked typical for someone his age: toys on the floor, an unkempt bed, and clothes everywhere except on the hangers in the closet where they should be. His bed was in one corner against the wall. In the opposite corner was a small desk with a small dresser next to it.

On the dresser, there were thirty-nine glass bottles, all with a cork in their mouths, lined up neatly next to each other. They weren't in any apparent order; big bottles placed randomly next to little bottles. Aiden walked over to the dresser and placed the new bottle next to the others, bringing the bottle count to forty. There were now five rows with eight bottles in each row.

After he placed the bottle in its row, he delicately ran his finger along the base of the bottles, leaving a squiggly line in the thin layer of dust on top of the dresser. A dusty room. Another character trait of a boy his age.

“Why all the bottles, PawPaw,” he said in a whisper as he touched the top of the corks. "Why are we catching all this wind?"

He wiped his dusty finger on his pants, leaving a dust streak on his blue jeans. His kissed the tip of his fingers and lightly pressed them against one of the bottles in the front. He smiled and skipped out of his bedroom.

#

“I believe I was your age, Aiden, when I started working,” PawPaw said, pointing his arthritic finger in Aiden’s direction. There was a slight tremble in his point. An obvious tell that PawPaw was somewhere in his eighties or that his mental faculties were on the decline. “Times were very different back then, when I was your age. If the kids didn't work, the family didn't eat.”

Aiden, his mom, and PawPaw were all seated at the table, finishing up supper.

“Well it couldn’t have been that different,” Aiden responded, having no real clue what it was like when PawPaw was a child. "It's just you, me, and mom and we all eat just fine."

“Well, young man, let me tell you,” PawPaw started, fatherly. He turned himself so that he was facing Aiden and lowered his head so he wasn't looking down at Aiden. A sort of show of respect. “Going to school was a luxury when I was a child. It was a luxury that I didn’t get to partake in. I think I went to the church school until I could do basic arithmetic. But I never learned how to read. Not until I was well into my forties. That’s because I had to work when I was your age. I was in the fields with my father bagging potatoes. Sun-up to sun-down. Three cents for each potato we bagged. On some days, I’d pack a hundred potatoes in a sack. That was a three-dollar day for me. And that three dollars would feed us for a week.

“And it wasn’t just physically demanding, it was mentally demanding as well. I wanted to be in school like some of the neighborhood children. I wanted to have recesses and lunches and have a parent pick me up from school. That all seemed so amazing to me. Seemed like the way life was supposed to be for kids. But instead, I was awake before the sun came up, hopping on the back of a rusted Ford pickup with my dad heading deep into the potato fields. There must have been fifteen of us packed in the bed of that truck. Maybe twenty before the holidays.

“And there were days when I wanted to run away from it all. I wanted to run away from the fields. Many times. I even told my mom one night that I was going to run away in the middle of the night and not come back. I was eleven years old. I remember it clearly. I kissed her goodnight and said goodbye, thinking I was going to escape to a new life in the middle of the night to go work as a bellhop.

"I had a friend who worked in a hotel and he said he could get me a job as a bellhop if I would just show up. My mom even packed me a satchel of food to hold me over until I found my way to the city, to the hotel. She knew the fields were a rough life. She saw what they did to my father. She knew that any other life would be far better than the one I was being subjected to. She knew that the fields killed peoples’ souls. But deep down, even though she didn’t disagree with me wanting to run away, she knew I wasn’t actually going to leave. She knew my loyalties were to the family.

“And that night when I kissed her goodbye and she handed me the satchel of food, I did exactly what she knew I was going to do: I stayed. I laid down next to my mom, who had fallen asleep on the couch, and just listened to her breath. The exhales of a women who asked for nothing but gave everything.

"I toughed it out in the fields for another few years until I was old enough to join the Navy. I knew it would take me away from my family. But I was at that age where I had earned the right to be a little selfish and do something other than break my back picking potatoes. And it wasn't as though I was abandoning my family. I earned a good salary and was able to wire my mom enough money so that she and my father could farm their own land and earn a decent living. I also had enough money to keep my little brothers out of the fields and in school. They got to experience the life that kids are supposed to: recesses, games, lunches, and an education. And they did very well in school, and went on to college, and raised families of their own, and had amazing careers.

“And I tell you this long, drawn out story because I want you to realize how important school is and how fortunate you are that you mother can provide that life for you. School will open many doors for you, doors that will take you to exciting places where adventure awaits. And in time, you'll--"

PawPaw abruptly fell silent, wincing as though he had just been stabbed with a knife in his left arm. He grabbed his left forearm with his right hand, emitting a grotesque sound. A sound of intense pain.

“You okay, dad?” Aiden’s mom asked as she stood up. She called him dad, but he was really her father-in-law.

PawPaw grunted and buckled over, grunting louder. His face turned pale.

“PawPaw,” Aiden said, his voice frightened. A tear formed in his left eye.

“I’m calling an ambulance,” Aiden’s mom said, running to the phone and dialing 9-1-1 as quickly as her petite fingers would allow her to.

Aiden jumped up from his seat and rushed to PawPaw’s side, placing his small hand on PawPaw’s shoulder blade.

PawPaw grunted and coughed, but he could feel the warmth and love through Aiden's hand, and if Aiden's hand was the last thing he ever felt, his eternal memories would be fulfilled. PawPaw's eyes closed as his chin gently lowered into his chest.

In the kitchen, Aiden’s mom could be heard frantically telling the operator to send an ambulance, that it was an emergency. Send someone now!

“PawPaw,” Aiden’s voice whispered. "Please open your eyes, PawPaw.

#

“I don’t understand, mom,” Aiden said, his eyes bloodshot from crying, a whimper breaking up his words. He placed his hand on PawPaw’s open casket, looking down at his PawPaw who appeared to be sleeping peacefully, his eyes closed, his skin pale and thin.

“PawPaw was sick,” Aiden’s mom said, covering her mouth, trying to subdue her emotions and stay strong for Aiden. "And it was time for him to go back to heaven."

“Let’s get him out of there and make him better. We can make him better. I’ll do anything, mom. I’ll do all the chores around the house. I’ll take out the trash. I promise I will do more. Let’s just get him up and make him better.” Aiden pleaded, his eyes filling with tears again, his little chest rising and falling with each whimper.

“Oh, Aiden,” his mom said. “It was nothing you did. PawPaw was old. His heart and lungs were weak. He lived a long, full life and cherished every day he was with us. Believe me, if I could wake him up and fix him, I would.”

“Was it my fault? I accidentally kicked up some dirt on the trail the other day and he started coughing after. Do you think I hurt PawPaw? Did I make him sicker?” Aiden said, his hand clutching the handrail on PawPaw’s coffin.

“No, no, dear. You never did anything wrong. PawPaw’s heart and lungs were eighty-four years old. Even the doctors couldn't have made him better. I promise you.”

Aiden hugged his mom tightly, burying his face in her stomach, crying. She stroked his wavy brown hair, wishing she could take away all of Aiden's heartache. But she knew, as well as anyone, that to grieve is human. To question life and death, is human. And to miss those taken too soon, is human.

His mom kissed her index and middle finger and then placed those two fingers on PawPaw’s forehead. A tear fell from her eye as she did.

“Bye-bye, PawPaw,” Aiden’s mom whispered. “Thank you for everything.”

Her eyes welled up. Being strong was gone. It was now time to show Aiden that it was okay to grieve. She cradled Aiden’s head against her stomach, squeezing him tightly.

#

“Aiden, it’s been a week now,” his mom said in a calming tone. “You can’t just stay in bed all day and eat in bed. It’s not healthy behavior. Why don’t you put on some socks and shoes and we can go for a little hike up the mountain?”

His mom stroked his hair, noting how grimy it was since he hadn’t taken a bath since PawPaw’s funeral.

“I don’t want to hike. I’m not hungry either. I just want to stay under my covers.”

“Sweetheart, you need to eat something. PawPaw wouldn’t want you to just lie in bed all day and be sad. He would want you outside playing, like the other kids. He would want you to remember him for all the good times you two had, not just mope around.”

“I’m allowed to be sad. PawPaw always told me that it was okay to be sad when it was called for. If he said it to me, then I'm allowed to follow it.”

“You’re absolutely right, Aiden. It is OK to be sad. You should express your emotions when the situation calls for it. But sitting in bed for a week is not a healthy way to express your emotions. It’s not the way PawPaw would have wanted you to express your emotions. You have to trust me on that.”

“PawPaw was the only father I knew, mom. Dad died when I was born so I never got to know him. When PawPaw moved in and helped raised me, I looked up to him. He was a father to me. Who will be my dad now?”

“Oh, dear,” his mom said, saddened, not knowing where to take the conversation. Her eyes welled up uncontrollably. She understood Aiden’s logic, but didn’t know how to respond. She just hugged him, holding him tightly.

“Am I going to lose you next?” he asked, breaking their embrace and staring up at her with large, sad eyes. "Am I?"

“Aiden, at some point, we all pass away. None of us is here forever. That’s why we embrace those we love while they are here. We create memories with those people so that way when they aren’t here, we always have those memories to draw upon,” she leaned forward, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Nobody can ever take away your memories of PawPaw, Aiden. Nobody. You have those forever.”

He sat up and nuzzled his head against her warm shoulder. He drew in a deep breath, feeling relaxed by his mother’s familiar scent, by her brief explanation of life to an eleven year old.

“If I come down to eat, can we make a plate for PawPaw, too? Please.”

His mom stared at him, captivated by his suggestion. She smiled, admiring his innocence.

“Aww, sweetheart, of course we can. For as long as you want, too. In fact, I will place a plate for him at each meal until you tell me not to. Deal?”

She placed her palms against his cheeks and kissed him on the forehead.

“Does this mean you’re coming down to eat dinner with me?” she asked, encouraged.

He was silent for a few moments then nodded.

She smiled.

“Wash up and I’ll meet you downstairs. I made you your favorite dessert, too. Carrot cake!”

A smile consumed his face. He hopped out of bed and dashed over to the bathroom connected to his bedroom.

#

A few moments later, Aiden walked back into his bedroom and opened the top drawer of his dresser, pulling out a pair of socks. His feet were bare and the wood floors were chilly. He sat down on his bed and put on his socks. When he finished, he stared up at the bottles, holding on to one of the last memories he had of PawPaw.

He hopped off his bed and walked back over to the dresser and ran his finger along the base of the bottles, making another squiggly line in the dust. When he got to the end of the front row, he picked up a bottle and held it in his hand, staring at its narrow body and long neck.

He was curious about all the bottles, about why PawPaw had him collect so many. Why hadn't he told him what they were for? And he left before he could.

He squeezed the bottle in his hand tightly. With his other hand, he grabbed the cork and squeezed tightly. He wanted to pull the cork out. To release the mysterious air. He hesitated.

His curiosity got the best of him, and he pulled the cork out. Almost instantly, a soft note emitted from the bottle, like the wind was still blowing over the mouth of the bottle. It wasn't a short note, either. The note continued to play, even after he placed the bottle back on the dressed.

He was startled by the sound.

He quickly jabbed the cork back in, stopping the note. He looked around, confused at what had just happened. Why did the bottle make that sound? He removed the cork and the note emitted from the mouth of the bottle again.

A grin consumed his face.

He jammed the cork back in and ran out of his bedroom with the bottle in his hand.

#

Aiden ran down the stairs into the kitchen. “Mom, mom,” Aiden shouted, overly excited.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned.

He held the bottle high in one hand, pointing at it with his other hand.

“It’s the bottles,” he said, excited. “PawPaw’s bottles. I figured out what they are for!”

“What?” she responded. "What are they for, dear?"

“PawPaw’s bottles. The ones we took up the hill. The ones he had me fill with wind. I know what they are for now,” he said, grabbing the cork with his hand. “They make noise,” he exclaimed as he pulled the cork out of the bottle, releasing a beautiful note. “See!”

Aiden's mom looked on with a confused look. She couldn't hear the noise coming from the bottle when he removed the cork. She smiled anyway. "OK, dear." She didn't want to ruin his fun.

Aiden shoved the cork back in the bottle, stopping the note.

“I bet all the bottles have a sound trapped inside them,” he shouted. “Come with me!” He grabbed his mom’s hand and they ran upstairs.

#

Aiden burst through his bedroom door, slowly followed by his mom.

He rushed over to the dresser and delicately removed each bottle from the dresser, placing them in a neat circle on his wooden floor. Once he had all the bottles on the floor, he started to remove all the corks. With each removed cork, a different, beautiful note was released into the air.

Aiden’s smile grew larger and larger. What was this beautiful thing he was experiencing?

When he removed the last cork, the notes suddenly played in a specific order. A very specific order.

Aiden listened to the notes play. After a few seconds, he clapped his hands excitedly. His grin grew wider. He jumped to his feet.

“That’s PawPaw’s tune! The tune he always whistled. The wind we captured is playing his tune.”

“What whistle?” his mom asked.

“PawPaw used to whistle a tune every day when we hiked up the hill. Those notes coming from the bottles are the notes from his whistle,” he slowly walked around the circle of bottles, staring down at them. “That’s PawPaw.” He pointed at the bottles.

Aiden’s mom placed her hand on her mouth and her eyes smiled. She watched Aiden as he walked around the circle of bottles, trying to pucker his lips and whistle at the same time. She sat down and crossed her legs, staring at the bottles. Even though she couldn't hear the whistle, she knew Aiden could.

“He’ll always be here with me when I miss him, mom. All I have to do is play his notes and it’ll be like he’s right here with us. Forever.”

His mom kissed the top of his head, brushing his hair with her hand. "Yes, Aiden, he will. Forever."