While climbing the incline, my sunglasses slip down my nose. I let out an annoyed groan and push them back up.
“You good, Clo?” my dad asks from behind me, pushing me up the hill.
“Just a long night.” Some rocks tumble on my next step, causing me to lose my footing, but my dad catches me. He lifts my foot back to the spot it was just at, allowing me to climb the rest of the incline. This hike’s difficulty level is moderate, with only a handful of challenging spots like this one.
My mom follows our trail in the back. She likes it back there. She finds comfort in seeing each of our family members ahead of her—a mama bear at her core.
“Be careful. Long night or not, the path is extra slippery after all that rain last night, honey,” my mom shouts warmly out from behind me. I simply nod as a bead of sweat drips down my brow.I’ve got to focus. This isn’t even the most challenging part of the route.
Upon reaching the top of the incline, I take a break to refocus. I breathe in and out slowly, pretending I’m preparing to dance.
“Hurry, Cleo!” my sister cheers from ahead. I barely just reached the top, and she’s already racing through the next incline, not even winded. She’s always been such a natural athlete. She’s living proof the universe has favorites.
Maybe Iamgetting too old for this. How do my parents keep up with those kids? We may all be adults now, but those two rascalswill always be my baby siblings. They’re the main reason I’m still living at home, not that I mind. This tradition is growing a bit old for me, but spending time with them and helping take care of my family is essential to me.
Thankfully, the next incline isn’t as steep, so I relax my muscles a little and take a drink of water from my canteen.
This tradition all started on the week I took my first steps. My parents’ home isn’t far from this state park, so they decided to take me on my first hike only a couple of days after I learned how to walk. Of course, given the fact that I was still a baby, I only walked for the first few feet of the hike. My parents carried me the rest of the way. My mom read somewhere that hiking is good for the soul and ran with it, and my dad, being as active as he is,lovedthe idea.
Since then, we’ve tried to hike together at least once every year. Often, we end the hike with a little campout. This year, we planned on keeping the hike quick, and I haven’t been the best sport about it.
I love my family, though.
I may appear distant sometimes, but I’d do anything for them.
Consequently, I’m hiking at seven o’clock in the morning with a killer hangover.
To my right is an endless forest filled with trees. To my left is a drop-off to a stream filled with rocks below. It’s not as bad as you may be envisioning. It’s not relatively high enough to be considered a prominent cliff, at least not at this point in the hike. I’d guess we’re about a hundred feet high, but who knows.
We’ve hiked this trail so many times; the drop doesn’t make me as nervous as it did when I was a little girl. In fact, I tend to capture the best views from the edge, so I often spend time overlooking that side of the forest.
It’s vast. Seemingly endless.
From the chirping birds to the sound of gentle rain, I’m mesmerized by it.
This moment would be even more beautiful if my thighs weren’t burning so much. Note to self: do noteverhike after a night out dancing again. Ever. Under any circumstance.
I squeeze my eyes shut and bend over, resting my palms on my thighs to take a proper break. As I lean forward, my feet slide across the muddy ground, making me cringe.
Then I lose my balance.
I’m not usually this clumsy, this thoughtless. I attempt to center myself, but unfortunately for me, my body chooses to bend toward the outer edge of the trail.
The drop-off.
My fate lies before me as clear as day. My mind screams at me to fight, to flee, to fly. Some people escape death’s grasp, sure. I know better, though. I won’t escape this.
Still, despite my mind’s willingness to give in to the inevitable, my body continues to fight. My arms flail, my mouth opens wide.
Then my foot slips off the slick, muddy edge.
I close my eyes, deciding I’d rather not see the end. Feeling it will be enough, I think.
I fall.
I’m convinced this is the end, when a strong, large hand latches on to my arm roughly. I open my eyes in shock.
“Get back up here, Clo,” my middle-aged father whispers, blinking back tears as he bends over the side of the trail, knees digging into the muddy ground while hanging on to me and a nearby sapling.
