A lot of retirement homes today have a cafe in them with a 1950s style diner decor, reminiscent of when the occupants were teenagers. I wonder if, when I'm in one of these homes, the cafe will be decorated like The Max from Saved by the Bell. I wonder what cliché things we'll remember our generation's past by.
I am not sure why I agreed to this. Of all the things I could be doing right now, this wouldn't have been at the top of my list. Maybe it was just to try something different; get out of the rut my life has become. Whatever the case, I'm here hanging on this rock taking stock of life.
It started out alright - the climb that is, not my life. (I think I'm repressing my childhood because I don't remember a lot about growing up.) After putting on the uncomfortable, but lifesaving, harness, and clipping the rope on, I started up the face slowly. Above my head I found a crack in the rock for my hands, and then I found a place for my left foot. Up I went.
My legs shuddered. My chest heaved - in and out - as I struggled to breathe. I felt dizzy, like I had a few too many drinks. Forty feet off the ground, and I was thoroughly panicked.
I have never been afraid of heights. I enjoy the thrill of looking over the edge. This is different. I don't trust myself with my own life. I don't believe I have the ability to do this.
I should have thought of that before I got half way up this face.
Am I content with my life? Do I resent my father for never teaching me to shave? Why did Spider-Man 3 have to suck? The Internet gave me a better education than any class I've attended.
"Take your time. Relax," my brother calls to me from below. He is belaying for me. He taught me how to belay before the climb. The rope is kept just slack enough so if you fall the drop is only a few feet.
I take a few deep breaths. I have to trust in the equipment.
This would make for a very stunning vista - you know - if I wasn't worrying about dying. Light clouds moved slowly overhead providing moments of shade as they passed beneath the sun. The gentle breeze felt cool on my skin. Looking away from the stone wall I clung to, I saw green hills stretch away into the distance spotted with clumps of trees.
Summoning the energy I knew I had within me, I looked back up this stony face. I am determined not to be defeated. It’s just a rock, right? Or is it all of nature manifest into this one challenge? I must focus.
I reach out with my right hand and feel around for a hold. A bump or crack. Maybe an elevator button. My tired fingers find a round hold and I grab on. Next, I must find somewhere to step. I try a few tiny bumps hoping one will hold me. My legs continue to shake.
"You’re almost there," I hear my bother calling.
Almost where? I wonder. Am I happy with my career? Are my relationships fulfilling?
Perhaps my existential musings would be better handled with a cup of tea.
I doubt myself. There’s no way I can make it to the top. In spite of my brother’s encouraging shouts from below, the only way I can do this is if I can muster up my own self-confidence. On the rock, you're all alone.
5 comments:
I had my comment written out but my computer wigged and deleted it so I'll write this one not so eloquently.
I love the style, the writing is really imagery oriented from a first person POV and selfishly one of my favorite POVS to read from. Its really easy to slip into.
There are a lot of great points in this specific piece that made me think. I had stopped on "I don't trust myself with my own life" because it hit me. Other than the fact that I had that and very similar thoughts as to what was penned in this story going through my mind as I was repelling down a rock face, the line itself hit me in general.
I don't trust myself with my own life. Its a hard thing to mull over for me as someone who follows Jesus. The initial reaction for me would be, great, you trust Jesus with it, but I think there's something to be said for the opposite. Do you need a certain trust in yourself to be able to trust Jesus? Do I trust myself with my own life? I am severely lacking in the former, so its a good thought process.
Great story and really nice angle on the picture-I love the colors and mood it sets off.
I'm trying to mix up different styles of writing for this project, and I keep coming back to first-person a lot. I think with my limitations of ~600 words it seems the best way to tell most stories.
First person has a lot of great qualities about it too -some of the best literature is first person. (dracula, catcher in the rye, Clockwork Orange) but I totally understand the limitation of 600 words being a little bit tricky as far as other POVS and types of writing go. I'm stoked to see what else progresses. You guys do great!
Great story and picture! I was pulled in with the line "I don't trust myself with my own life" also. I think most people struggle with this issue but have a hard time saying it out loud. I would be one of those. I also liked "Am I content with my life?". It's a story that makes you think deep, so thanks for that.
Bonus insight: I almost made an ending to this story, but I won't tell you if the narrator made it to the top or gave up. That's up for you to decide.
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