Cliff

15 May 2018

The wind is slapping my ears. I hear nothing but the direction of air. My heavy panting cover the noise as I try to cope with the exhaustion of coming here. I stand near the edge, anxious of the looking down at the cliff. The waves pull apart and smash the walls of rock allowing tiny portions of earth to come off and join the sea. The sea covers the sharp corners of the cliff. It is restless. I can imagine how even more tumultuous this place would be in the spring. I felt chilly as the wind changes its course and flows behind me. I can see the horizons touch. The ocean meeting the sky in a vast comfort of storms.

I stumble a bit forward and kick off the rock beneath my feet. Even though the gushes of wind block my hearing, I can imagine a faint scream as the rock plummets a hundred yards below. I lay down by the grass and allow the moment to envelop me. The sky is clear today with a circle of clouds hovering in the far off distance kissing the sun. I shield my eyes as I look towards my left where I can see the ancient tree where I learned how to fight. The scars are unmissable despite years of trying to obscure it. I can still see the gentle slashing just above my collar bone which if it was an inch higher, this story would be different. I glance back at the branches and see dozens of kites tangled within it. The variety of designs seem to wither as time passes. We had no ladder back then, so whenever the kite got caught up in the tree we would just buy another one. Up until the cost of enjoying the kite seemed to lessen and lessen.

As I pulled myself to stand up, I hear sirens in the distance. I cling on my crutches and hurry towards the mountainside. The sirens get louder and louder with each passing minute. It seems as though I never wavered from the cliff. My feet keeps dragging themselves up the hill and unwanted visualizations swirl in my brain. I shove the thoughts aside and after a handful of minutes, I finally reach the top. My eyes squint a little to adjust to what I’m seeing. A shrouded person in the porch rocking back and forth clutching her knees as EMTs scour the house. A shade of blue and red cast shadows on the porcelain-colored swing. I remain frozen in place as they carry a body out the front door.

This is my home. This was my home.

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