Between Then & Now || Currently Editing for Wattys 2022

18.

Okay, okay, so I'm not sure that they meant to literally stop and smell the roses. I honestly couldn't tell you how the hell my Ma meditates three times a day for an hour because, frankly, I couldn't lay on the mat watching the clouds for more than ten minutes before deciding to go on a hike instead.

Fortunately, the trail I chose wasn't too hilly. Once, I went hiking up in northern California, near Half Moon Bay, and Tessa, Michael, and I chose the literally most hilly trail we possibly could have. My ass muscles hurt for two weeks after.

Other than a hill at the beginning of this trail, though, this one had been mostly flat. And dry. Every step I take kicks up a miniature cloud of dust. Not that Thelma's been minding–I've had to stop every fifty feet for her to roll around in the dirt or sniff some arbitrary plant. She tried to eat a few wild berries near the beginning of the trail, and I had to pull her away, unsure if they'd kill her on the spot.

Maybe curiosity killed the dog?

Suddenly, there's a shout, and I stop dead in my tracks, Thelma crashing into my calves. A pause, just birds chirping in the trees. Then, in the distance, a crash and a cheer. I tilt my head, one foot taking a tentative step forward on the hiking trail. Just the sounds of birds and the wind rustling the leaves of trees make their way down the path, and I take another step, making my way down the path to the direction that the shouting came from.

Another shout comes from the distance, and I walk faster, Thelma's little feet pittering behind me as I gently pull on the leash to get her to follow. The pebbles on the trail crackle under my tennis shoes as my paces quickens. Wind hits my face and, soon enough, a cheer comes down the trail, this time much closer. What in the world could they possibly be cheering about in the middle of some random forest?

Finally, I see them. Between the trees, a few feet off the trail, there's an opening, the sky bright and blue and big over the edge of the grass. A group of people are gathered all together, some of the men with their shirts off, and I spot a few women with ponytails. Trying to get a better look at what the hell it is they keep cheering about, I step closer to the trees and crouch down a bit. Thelma shuffles beside me and sniffs around at the grass.

Then, one member of the group walks further back towards the trees, and, for a moment, I crouch down a little further, afraid they had spotted me. But the man just turns around, back to the group which splits down the middle as everyone else looks back at him. He shakes his hands off below his waist and bounces a bit. Then he sprints over to the end of the grass, the part I have no idea leads to, and, when he gets to the end, he jumps, shouting.

I hold my breath as he falls. It's almost in slow motion, his body hurtling down, down, down, past the point where the green grass meets the sky and we can't see him anymore. His group scuttles to the other side, near the edge of the now apparent cliff, and looks down as a crash floats up from below. After a tense moment where my breath lies caught in my throat, they cheer, and my eyes widen. What the hell? Is he okay? Why did he- Did he just jump over the cliff to his death? What is wrong with these people?

Suddenly, Ola barks, and my breath catches in my throat again, as I stare at the people who all simultaneously turn around. And I know they see me at the same time they know I see them.