The Top of the World

The leaves crunch underfoot. Air whips my face. Cold. I’m cold up here. My shoes are muddied. Trek. Trek. Trek. Worth it he says.

My tour guide. My lifeline. My leader. My heart. This moment is everything. Present. I am finally present.

A snapshot of time. I peek through the trees. He was right.

I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight, and I am awestruck. I want to sit up here forever, time stopped with the one who has shown me how tiny we are, there’s nothing I want more. There’s nothing before this, there’s nothing after this. My eyes water from the frigid wind.

Everything has led to this. Effort. Exhaustion. Emotions on high. The fog rolls in. It climbs over the mountains, bringing a darkness to those dwelling underneath. A chill runs down my back.

A swig from the water bottle. Cold against my lip. The liquid burns my throat. Sit, stay, smile. Anything I urge. He sits, but shakes his head. It’s getting late, he says. I should go.

I look down. The town looks so small. I look up. The mountains look so tall. Overwhelming, surging through my veins. Sun setting. Darkness falls. He leaves. I look down again. I need more time here.

Will I ever get over this moment? Am I stuck here forever? Is there anything worth more than this view? Will I crash again?

The view is distorted now. Maybe if I wait long enough, it’ll set itself right again. Maybe if I wait long enough, the fog will dissipate, the darkness will be forgotten, the leaves will crunch with our footsteps again. Maybe. Just maybe.

Colder. I wrap my arms around my knees, grinding my heels into the side of the mountain. Planted. Growing. Baited breath. Waiting for the sun to rise again.