In the Blink of an Eye
Pt. 1
Nothing. Nothing at all beneath my feet except empty air. This isn’t real. Either I’m imagining this or it’s happening to someone else. Not me. I’m still reaching out for her to be some sort of safety net, or for anything at all that might save at least one of us. This can’t be real, but what is real? This morning I had breakfast. Warm, perfectly browned French toast with vanilla bourbon maple syrup and spicy breakfast potatoes that soaked up the excess syrup, fluffy golden scrambled eggs with fresh basil, and French pressed dark coffee. That was real. I know that was real because I could taste and smell it. I know I’m awake right now, but this slow-motion descent feels like special effects in an action movie where you’re not sure if the main character is going to live or die. The gravity that’s pulling me down can’t be real. This mountain can’t be real. I must have fallen asleep and can’t remember it. The ground is moving towards me.
I’m a ragdoll. There’s nothing I can do to move or twist or do anything that would give me any sense of security. I’m still trying to reach out to her, but my body isn’t obeying me anymore and my arms are windmilling, desperate to grab hold of anything at all. This is real. This is happening. God. This is happening. Is this all I get? Has my life been as full as it could have been? I just started to do well for myself, but could I have done more? My life was so short. I should have sixty years left, but I’m going to die now. I can feel death breathing down my neck. Should I have done anything differently? I probably should have called my mom this morning and told her I love her. This is it. I’m going to die.
What about her? The girl I’m still trying to reach. Will she be okay? Will we die together? I tried to save her. I didn’t even think about jumping off the cliff, I saw her slip and reached out. Now I’m falling with her. The ground is close. It’s rocky. Are the wet boulders below what my death looks like? Does it hurt to die? Is it going to be quick or will I have to suffer until I give in to it. I wonder what death feels like, and what happens when we die. Is there really a God, or is it lights out and that’s it? Nothingness. I hope there’s something. I hope this isn’t all. Someone is screaming. Is it me or the girl? Or is anyone screaming? I wonder what death feels like. Is dying easy? Only a breath separates me from the ground. My eyes close.
Pt. 2
Almost 150 feet above and behind me is the steep face of the mountain, the exposed rock of the cliff we dove off of. The grey rock is darker than the clouds and speckled with brown moss and pale green lichen. Poking out from the top of the cliff ledge, the summit of the mountain peers down with curiosity to see where we fell. A gentle, cool breeze caresses my cheek. Damp moss pillows my bare hands. My eyelids open and shut lazily as my eyes adjust to the bright midday sunlight that pierces through holes in the puffy grey clouds. The heavy scent of wet earth fills my nose and lungs. I have never tasted air so sweet. I hurt all over, and my body is stiffly resting against a rock that stopped my fall. The steep face where our fall ended is a field of short green grass, purple and orange mountain flowers, and boulders growing out of the earth. I’m on my back, and the clouds above are moving and shifting into every shape imaginable. I’m alive. If I know nothing else about anything, I’m alive. I’m bruised or maybe broken, but I am breathing. Death blinked. Why do the clouds fight so hard to cover the sun?
Wait, where is she? Where is the girl I couldn’t save? My neck is so stiff, but I see her, just down the hill from me. Hello? Are you okay? She’s lying there. Breathing. I am breathing. Can she breathe? I can’t tell, I can’t see her chest rise and fall through her red windbreaker. There’s blood all over her face. If she’s not dead, she’s hurt badly. I hope she’s not dead. I wonder if she’s going to be okay or if she will be around to see the sunset tonight. I know so little about her. We’ve worked together, but I never took the time to find out who she is. How well do I know anyone, how much do we need to know before we can say we really know person? I should have gotten to know more about her.
This isn’t fair. There was so much potential in her bright eyes this morning as we set off into the mountains, it should not be wasted here on this rock. This girl is a hard worker with adventure in her heart and a playful smile. I know a little about her, but I can’t say I know her. I don’t even know if she likes sugar in her coffee or if she takes it black or if she prefers tea. She must have a family and friends and people who love her. This beautiful life should have so many more days ahead of her. Does she? I know next to nothing about her and what her life has been like. How well does anyone here know her?
Who is she? What has she done? Where has she been, and what has she seen? Did she have a good childhood? I hope she lived a full life and was not afraid when she looked death in the eyes. This human being, this life is so close to me, but just out of reach, and I can’t move. What does she think about life? Has it been kind to her? Does she get up early every morning to be quiet in the intimate moments as the sun rises with the new day? She could die a stranger here. I can only see the side of her bloody face, and it’s unfamiliar. It should be the greatest tragedy, to die alone among strangers. I wonder if she can see the blue sky behind the clouds. Is she looking for shapes and smiling when she picks something out?
Everything hurts, but I start to crawl to her. I must reach her. I need to know if she’s okay, and she needs to have someone next to her. She should not feel so alone right now. Her eyes are still closed. Someone is shouting, a bright orange rain jacket is climbing through the rocks and grass towards us. Her face is bloody, but I can feel her weak heart beat in her limp wrist.