Tea at the Summit

Eleanor woke to streams of light shining through her frost-covered tent. Still wrapped in her sleeping bag, she unzipped the tent and shivered as she drew in the crisp mountain air.

She lit a burner just outside her tent and placed a pot of water on top. The sun climbed higher, casting light across the valley fields below. Steam rose from the pot as the water reached a boil. She poured it into a flask where a bag of rose tea waited at the bottom.

Eleanor studied the path winding up the mountain from her campsite. A fresh blanket of snow had hidden some markers, but the trail was still visible between the jagged rocks.

A large heart-shaped rock in the middle of the path caught her eye. It was completely bare, untouched by the snow. As she came closer, her foot slipped on a patch of ice. She fell forward, catching herself against the rock. The stone was warm beneath her hands. Eleanor rested against the rock, drawing deep breaths and enjoying the unexpected warmth.

‘One step at a time,’ she reminded herself. ‘I’ve got this.’

She hauled herself up over a rocky ridge and gasped. Her eyes widened at the sight of the summit. She dropped her pack, heart pounding.

‘I made it!’

She stumbled around the mountaintop, taking in the full view of the world below her. The horizon stretched in every direction. The fields where she started now looked small and distant compared to their vastness where she had begun her climb the day before.

She pulled the flask from her pack and, with some careful manoeuvring, retrieved a small cloth bag. Eleanor dusted the snow from a smooth rock and settled down on her perch. She untied the bag, slid out the polished urn, and set it down beside her.

‘You were right, this is the best view in the world.’

Eleanor sipped her tea and sat in silence with her late beloved one last time.