All my life, I have felt like someone stuck high on the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea. At first it was an adventure to reach these solitary heights. Now, I realize just how lonely this life has been. Only, I’m too afraid to move away from the edge. I’ve lived here for so long – the loneliness is all I know.
To risk any movement seems to invite my utter obliteration. Whenever I consider changing my position, the image of my body slipping over the sheer rock wall paralyzes me. Even now I am afraid it is too late. Perhaps I am cursed, or doomed, or infected with a fear I can never expel.
Time has advanced, and the sea and wind have eaten away at the little ledge on which I stand. How did I wind up here, anyway? I remember I was a child, a child who sought to be alone. Some adults helped me to reach this high place. Those people are gone now. I am the adult, and I am left with this small child’s wagon, filled with a few totems from my past.
The cliff erodes by the minute. The rock crumbles below my feet. Below, I can see my name written in sea foam. My little wagon’s wheels have begun to slip over the side. I hold fast the handle, clutching on to the one thing that kept me safe.
I’m going to have to choose soon – whether to drop the wagon, or whether to go down into the sea with it. If I drop the wagon, there’s a chance I can still climb, or fly, or swim for my life. If I hang on, I’ll certainly be pulled down to the depths.
The only thing I’ve got to do is to let go of this little wagon.
Letting go is the scariest thing. Holding on all these years made me feel so safe. Without it, I am naked and vulnerable. I feel an awful pang in my chest. I can’t hold on any more, I know it. This feels like betrayal, like I am destroying my oldest friend. No one, no one knew how much this little wagon meant to me. The grief is real – yet even so, I somehow find the trust to let it go…
Down it falls. Below my heel, the last bit of rock crumbles. Time to reach out, and climb away from the place I tried not to break.