The Quiet Hill

Late one Sabbath afternoon, after the volleyball games had ended and the laughter had settled back into the village, Samuel and Buck Rogers wandered toward the far side of the community.

Beyond the orchard, the path climbed gently through a stand of towering oaks until it reached a broad, level clearing nestled among the trees.

The meadow covered two peaceful acres.

Soft grass waved in the breeze.

Wildflowers painted patches of yellow, purple, and white beneath the trees.

From this quiet hill the entire settlement spread below them.

Rebecca's Kitchen stood at its heart.

Smoke curled lazily from the bakery ovens.

The creamery gleamed in the afternoon sun.

Windmills turned steadily above the brick reservoirs.

Far beyond, the young orchard stretched across the rolling hills while Saturn's magnificent rings glowed silently in the blackness above.

Buck removed his hat and slowly turned in a circle.

"This is beautiful."

Samuel smiled.

"I thought so."

Buck noticed several corner stakes with twine stretched neatly between them.

"What are we building up here?"

Samuel answered quietly.

"This is our cemetery."

Buck looked around again.

"There aren't any graves."

"No."

"There aren't any monuments."

"No."

"There aren't even any fences."

Samuel smiled.

"Not yet."

Buck stood silently for a moment.

"Why choose this place?"

Samuel looked out over the valley.

"Because I wanted everyone resting here to overlook the community they helped build."

Buck followed his gaze.

Children were still chasing one another near the schoolhouse.

The supper bell rang from Rebecca's Kitchen.

The sound drifted gently across the valley.

"I'd enjoy this view myself," Buck admitted.

Samuel nodded.

"I hope everyone who comes here someday remembers the sound of that bell."

The two men stood quietly for a while.

Finally Buck scratched his chin.

"Seems to me we've got a problem."

Samuel looked over.

"What problem?"

Buck grinned.

"Nobody's dying."

Samuel couldn't help but laugh.

"I've noticed."

Buck folded his arms.

"I'd call that a blessing."

Samuel nodded.

"So would I."

He looked around the empty meadow.

"You know what bothers me?"

Buck raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

Samuel sighed with mock disappointment.

"We don't have anyone to visit when we come up here for picnics."

Buck stared at him for a heartbeat.

Then he laughed so hard he had to sit down on a nearby stump.

"I've met a lot of planners in my life..."

"...but you're the first one worried because his cemetery is empty."

Samuel laughed with him.

"I hope it stays that way for a very long time."

Buck's smile softened.

"So do I."

A pair of bluebirds landed on a low branch nearby.

The breeze whispered through the oak leaves.

Far below, the village continued its ordinary work while Earth sailed silently through the stars.

Samuel looked around the quiet hill.

"I don't want people to think this place belongs only to sorrow."

Buck listened.

"I'd like families to walk here."

"Children to play beneath these trees."

"Grandparents to tell stories."

"Young couples to watch the evening settle over the valley."

"And when the time finally comes..."

"...our people will already know this hill."

Buck nodded slowly.

"So the cemetery begins as a place for the living."

Samuel smiled.

"I believe every good cemetery should."

They turned and started back toward the village.

Halfway down the trail Buck looked over his shoulder one last time.

"You know..."

"I think this may become the prettiest picnic ground on Earth."

Samuel chuckled.

"It already is."

They walked home together while, high above them, Saturn's rings shimmered against the endless darkness.

The little hill remained quiet behind them.

Not waiting for death.

Waiting for generations.