The Other Side of the Hill

The Other Side of the Hill

By Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar

Let me tell you a little story one I carry in my chest like a tune I never quite forget. It’s a tale stitched with wisdom, the kind you don’t get from books but from sitting under trees and listening with more than just your ears.

So there was this man let’s call him Jaro. Just an ordinary soul, no shining armor or grand name, but the kind of person who’d fix your roof before you even asked. He lived in a cozy little valley where the grass was green enough to make the sky jealous. The well was sweet, the soil generous, and the wind knew how to hum lullabies.

But Jaro? He couldn’t see none of that. Not really.

Every day, he'd squint across the hills at the other side and mumble to himself, “Now that’s where life must be better. That grass look at it! It practically glows.” You know how we do we start measuring joy by what’s out of reach. It’s like the heart forgets how to count what’s right in our hands.

One morning, tired of wondering and wishing, Jaro packed up his bag. Didn’t take much just some bread, dried fruit, and a stubborn hope. He left behind his garden, his porch swing, even that little corner of the yard where the butterflies loved to dance.

Climbed the hill with his feet, but it was his hunger that really led the way.

When he got to the top, he turned around to look back at his valley his home. It looked small now, like something from a dream you’re already forgetting. He turned his eyes to the new place. The land he’d been aching for.

But listen when he stepped over, everything changed.

The grass? Looked better from far off. Up close, it was dry and brittle, the kind that snaps under your heel without apology. The soil was mean and cracked like it had secrets it didn’t wanna share. The well? Dried up. The air was heavy. Even the birds sounded tired.

Still, Jaro pressed on. “Maybe I just haven’t found the right spot,” he muttered, trying to convince himself. He walked until the sky turned purple with evening and his stomach reminded him he wasn’t made of dreams.

That’s when he heard it.

A creaky voice from an old tree leaning sideways like it had seen too many storms.

“Chasing shadows, are ya?” it rasped.

Jaro blinked. Thought maybe the heat was playing tricks on him.

“I seen your kind before,” the tree went on. “You trade gold for glitter and wonder why your pockets feel empty.”

Jaro sat down under the tree, silent. Sometimes the truth don’t need a second helping.

Later, a thirsty little bird with ragged feathers landed beside him. Looked like it hadn’t sipped water in days. It gave Jaro this look one part curiosity, one part accusation and said, “Funny how you left full and arrived empty.”

Whew. That one hit different.

By the time night showed up with her black shawl full of stars, even the wind whispered things to him. It didn’t scold, though. Just kind of sighed, like a grandma who loves you too much to stay mad.

“You ever notice,” it whispered, “how people want more before they even finish what they have?”

That night, Jaro couldn’t sleep. Not because he wasn’t tired but because he finally was. Tired of chasing better without recognizing blessed. Tired of trading wholeness for wanting.

So the next morning, without a big dramatic speech, he turned around and headed home. That hill didn’t seem so magical now it was just a hill. But what waited for him on the other side? That was treasure. His porch swing. The garden. The sweet smell of his well water. Familiar birds that sang like they remembered his name.

Funny thing was, nothing had changed in that valley. Not the flowers. Not the wind. Not the sky.

But Jaro had.

See, sometimes we don’t need a new place we need new eyes. Sometimes the grass we call dull is just thirsty for our attention. And that craving for “more”? It ain’t always hunger it’s forgetfulness.

Jaro started tending to his garden like it was a sacred altar. Sat under his tree and listened. And when folks asked him why he never left the valley again, he’d grin and say,

“I already crossed the hill and met the truth on the other side.”

And if you ask me, that truth is this: Wanting more ain’t wrong but forgetting what you already have? That’s how you end up rich in dreams and poor in spirit.

So before you go chasing greener pastures, ask yourself: Am I really lacking, or just not looking?

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