The day started out much like any other day. A bright beam of light streamed in through the slats covering the windows; its destination, as usual, was a spot on my head just above my left eye. I could feel the warm spring breeze flowing through the open window and over my body carrying the perfume of lilac. Birds were beginning their raucous spring dance in the branches just feet from my house.
Given that the day started out so painfully normal, I am more than a bit surprised to find myself in my current location – gazing down into the chasm from the very top of a five-hundred foot cliff.
Yes, the start of the day was the tediously the same as every day before it, with one major difference. My head was pounding as if my brain was trying to hammer itself free from the confines of my skull. It was the banality of the morning, and the throbbing of my head that fueled my unusual desire – to get away from it all.
Somehow, with the persistent thoughts of escape running through my mind, I managed to pull myself out of the bed, pull on a t-shirt and jeans.
Minutes later, I was in my truck headed in a generally northern direction. After miles of highway shot by my window, I glanced into the rearview mirror to see my scruffy face staring at me mocking my getaway. I smiled a big goofy grin back at it. Windows open and coffee in hand, I pushed the pedal harder intently leaving the ordinary morning miles behind me.
And somehow, I ended up here. The top of a rocky precipice.
I sat down on the edge, peering down over green-gray water crashing over jagged rocks. Even at five hundred feet up, the noise of the powerful river below was deafening as it flowed through the sun-drenched gorge beneath my vantage point.
I am not sure where I originally intended to end up that day. I just knew that there was a daunting task ahead of me. Befitting my dubious mood, I chose to abandon my truck in a small parking area just off the highway.
I hiked through the valley for an hour with no objective in mind. I knew I reached the destination when I gazed forward was astounded by the complex beauty as far as the eye could see. The first buds of spring were showing on the trees; shrill noises from woodland creatures rivaled the sound of the crashing water for my attention. A small snake moved over the ground and hid in a pile of last year’s fallen leaves.
In the distance, I could barely make out the form of fisherman standing knee deep in the river. His pole was arched severely as he reeled in his catch.
As I contemplated my own situation, my thoughts eventually turned to the reason I found myself there in the first place – the “Runaway.”
On that dark night several weeks ago, I was indeed the last person to whom he spoke. It was he who said “at some point or another, everyone thinks about running away, but who actually does it?” Hearing the words chilled me. Maybe he was on a precipice just like this one; on the brink of insanity as he considered how quickly his situation deteriorated. Except me, nobody knew the whole story.
I didn’t understand. How could I? He had gone through more in the last few months than most had gone through in a lifetime. But I was drawn in; affected more than I could ever dream possible. I wanted to help. I wanted to understand.
Knocking a few small rocks into the boiling water below, I looked farther over the edge. Mulling over the Runaway’s last words, I could almost feel the pain in his voice. Aspirations and dreams shattered, the situation is just too out of control.
The Runaway found himself on an edge – of sanity?
So, he did it; without a word to anyone, he packed up his truck in the middle of the night and just left it all behind.
The departure left me with a tremendous sense of failure and guilt. It is irrational, but I somehow felt responsible.
Abruptly, I pulled back from the edge of the cliff. After hours of gazing into the abyss, I suddenly found that “piece of me” that I had lost. The realization was as clear as the water below. I stopped blaming myself.
I knew the Runaway well enough to know that the plan was simply to put as much distance between himself and his troubles; to rationalize the state of his affairs. I can only hope that with every state line that the Runaway crosses, he finds those pieces of himself.
I picked up a small stone at my feet. As a reminder of my experience, I carved a few private words on the stump of a dead tree. I turned away from the spot and began my long hike back to my truck, and home.
Eventually, I intend to return… my secret sanity asylum at the top of a treacherous rock wall.
2 hours ago
