We lived north east of Kathmandu in Khumbu. Our house was situated in a small Sherpa village. It was surrounded by beautiful views. From our house, on a clear day, I could sometimes see the mountains covered with snow. Although our house was small, it was a refuge for us from the cold.

One day, when I was returning home, I saw my mother looking at me from the window and waving at me. I waved back. Soon I was inside the house and closed the wooden door before the cold wind could get inside. My sister was cooking in the kitchen that adjoined the living room and the smell of food made me feel hungry.

In our house, we had a small place where we kept a statue of Buddha and lit lamps beside it. We were Buddhists. Our windows had wooden panels to stop the cold from coming in. Sometimes during the night, when it got too cold, we used blankets to cover the windows.

My sister served me garlic pancakes in a plate. Since I was feeling very hungry, I ate the pancakes quickly. After dinner, I went to my room and lay down to rest on my bed.

Slowly the memories of the past came back to me and I saw my dear father.

That day was very cold. My father, mother, my little brother, and younger sister were the members in my family and we owned two small plots of land.

The pine trees around our house were covered in snow. Except for a robin which was singing nearby our house, the environment was quiet and peaceful. Only the whirling sound of the northern wind could be heard.

Mother brought hot cakes and tea and laid them on the round dining table. It was tea-time and, sometimes, on occasions like these, my father enjoyed talking to us.

"Son do you know what Kathmandu is called?" We enjoyed it when father involved us in conversations like this. It made us think less about the cold.

"No, father. Please tell us." My brother asked as he put a hot piece of cake into his mouth.

"The city is known as the land of the golden temples because it has many beautiful temples. Do you know that our country also has many beautiful and valuable birds, animals, and mountains? We are lucky to live in a country like this."

"Oh, father please tell us more," urged on my little brother who was becoming excited. All of us were dying to find out more about our country's cultural and natural wealth.

That year, during the spring season, my father organized a trek for us to see the Everest Mountain from close range. My father, uncle Jakalan, sister, and I decided to go whereas my mother stayed at home with my little brother. We packed all the food and camping gear we needed for the trip and, before setting off, we offered our prayers to the statue of Buddha for a safe journey.

It was a new experience for my sister and me to travel like this. All of us were wearing heavy jackets and trekking boots. As we began walking, we started to enjoy the fresh air and scenery. The mountains shone white in the sunlight.

We saw various animals. We caught a glimpse of a fox with light brown fur. We went along thinking about the many things our father had described to us and wondered what we would see.

Then a squirrel sped along the snow and climbed a tree. We were lucky to sight Kingfishers, woodpeckers, and other migratory birds that father spotted. As we journeyed along, we were aware that someone was following us. This proved true when we heard a slight noise from among the trees. All of us looked towards the direction suddenly fearing trouble. Could it be a wild animal? We were caught by surprise when we saw the deer. It raised its head, flipped its ears, looking at us for a moment, then sprang and disappeared into the wilderness. Our father explained to us that the deer was one of the world's most rare species. It was called the Kasturi and was hunted by people to make a rare and expensive perfume. That is why, he pointed out that we had to protect and take care of these animals as much as we took care of our own lives.

After walking for a while, our uncle Jakalan said it was time to rest. He released his rucksack. We then took out food, sat down, and ate hungrily. Although we didn't have the warmth of the fire at home, we felt happy to be in beautiful surroundings. As I was munching on biscuits and looking around, I suddenly spotted a bird.

"Father, look, I see a bird… isn't it beautiful? Oh father, it looks like our national bird, the one I read about in my text book."

"Ah, yes, child. That is the Impeyan Pheasant or Danphe."

"Oh, look at its feathers. They're like a rainbow!" I said excitedly.

Afterwards we put up our tents. Dusk came and we helped father and uncle Jakalan to build a fire. Then everyone sat around it and my uncle, sister, and I together listened to father's stories.

In this moment, the beauty of my surroundings enchanted my mind. I felt that such a place of loveliness could not be described by words.

The next day, we had breakfast and continued on with our journey. As we walked, we also looked around for new sights. After a while, we spotted something with horns… and then a goat appeared.

"That is an Ibex goat. They're experts at climbing mountains," explained father.

After some time, a cat-like animal appeared further away on some rocks. From what we could make out, his fur had grey spots. We felt scared as it kept looking at us.

"It must be the snow leopard," my father said softly. Then as quickly as it had appeared, it disappeared into the woods. Another surprising thing we saw was the Red Panda. It had a white face and was smaller than the Chinese panda. It too disappeared without a trace.

Finally, my sister and I were told that we were nearing the close-range view of Everest, Sagarmatha.

Excited, we thought how great it was for us to see the world's highest mountain. All of us were amazed to see this majestic mountain. To me, it looked like as if Everest was a white giant that owned the blue sky and the clouds.

We rested there. Our journey had come to an end and for the moment, we just wanted to relax and enjoy the view. While my uncle, sister, and I began unpacking some food, father went further up to explore the area. Then everything happened in a blur.

There was an avalanche. My uncle, sister, and I quickly hid under the shelter of a huge rock. The snow came down with a huge swoop and, as I crunched on my knees trembling, I remembered with a sinking heart that father was missing.

My whole body began to shake with fear. My sister realized what had happened and began to cry. Uncle Jakalan looked grim. All of us knew that father would not make it alive. Our fears proved to be painfully right because afterwards we found him buried under the snow.

Warm tears trickle down my face. Then I feel a breeze coming through the window, as if trying to console me. Time and again I ask myself: why did such a magnificent mountain have to bury my father, the one who had admired the mountain so greatly and told us, his children, much about it?

Although my father is gone, I find solace in the knowledge that he sleeps forever in the Himalayas like the many brave Sherpas who have lost their lives while climbing Everest. A place which he loved with all his heart and taught us to love as well.