The Big Dune

Cleo stands at the bottom of a huge sand dune. It is a hill of yellow sand. It is as high as a tall building. The sky above it is very blue.

"Are we really going up that?" she asks.

"Yes," says her mother. "The view is wonderful at the top."

"The view is fine at the bottom too," says Cleo.

Her mother laughs and gives her a bottle of water. They take off their shoes. They leave them in the car. The sand is hot in the sun. It is cool in the shade.

They start to climb. Cleo takes a step. Her foot goes deep into the sand. She takes another step. She slides back half a step. It is like walking up a down escalator.

"This is not fair," she says.

"Walk in my steps," says her mother. "The sand is harder there."

Cleo looks at her mother's feet. Each footprint is a small hole in the sand. She puts her feet in them, one after the other. It is easier. Not easy, but easier.

After ten minutes, they stop. Cleo looks down. The car is small now. The parking lot looks like a toy. She turns around and looks up. The top is still far away.

"My legs are on fire," she says.

"Mine too," says her mother. "Let's count to fifty and walk again."

They count out loud. At thirty, a small lizard runs across the sand. At forty, a brown bird flies over their heads. At fifty, they stand up and start again.

The wind begins to blow. It carries tiny bits of sand. They hit Cleo's legs like rain. She puts her scarf over her nose and mouth.

"Do not stop!" her mother shouts. "We are near!"

Cleo wants to sit down. Her legs shake, and her mouth is dry. But her mother is five steps ahead. She does not stop. Cleo thinks, "She can do it. So can I."

Cleo puts her head down and climbs. She does not look up. She watches only her feet. One step, one slide, one step, one slide. Her breath is loud in her ears.

Then her hands touch something hard. It is not sand. It is a flat grey stone at the top.

She pulls herself up and sits on the stone. Her mother sits next to her. For a minute, neither of them speaks.

Then Cleo looks up.

The sea is below them, wide and silver. Waves roll in slowly in long white lines. Beyond them, the dunes look like a yellow sea. A white bird floats in the wind. It does not move its wings.

"Oh," says Cleo. "Oh, wow."

"Told you," says her mother.

They drink all the water and eat two oranges. The sweet juice runs down their hands. The wind is warm now, and the sun is soft.

"How do we go down?" asks Cleo.

Her mother smiles. She takes off her hat. She puts it in the bag. "Fast," she says.

Cleo stands up. She counts to three, and then she runs. Her feet go deep, and the sand flies around her. She shouts the whole way down.