The sun had just peaked above the trees. Sounds of innocent herbivores tapered in and out through the perfectly scattered brush. The white noise of distant cars slowly faded. A natural vibrato proceeded to fill the vacant space that was his thoughts.
He didn’t have a watch, but that didn’t matter. He knew exactly what time it was. A 2.3 mile trek lied ahead of him if he wanted to reach the end of the ravine. Half way down he could already here the rushing white water. He stopped, took a drag of the fresh morning air, and embraced the world. Forgetting everything, but forever remembering the moment.
He was nearly to the falls before he snapped out of his sentimental flashback. The water rumbled, with the full intent of drowning out any noise that dared disturb its melodic flow. He climbed the 3 towering terraces of slate up onto the adjacent cliff. The sun had already overtaken the lush canopy of evergreens, gently grazing the tough skin of the very man looking up to it.
A small stone with nothing more the two dates and a phrase stood solely, beckoning to be read. His callused hands reached delicately into the felt bag he had stored in his pack. He placed the Bible next to the headstone, resting his brown matted hair against the tattered leather backing of the ancient script. He thought about his friend. He thought about life; about his own, and softly smiled. The breeze stopped. The noise ceased. He was trapped in his mind, but he didn’t want to be anywhere else. He closed his eye, all the same opening his mind. He was far away from his house, but he was home.
© Sean Farrell, November 19, 2015. All rights reserved.