The First Peak
“Dad, are we almost there? You said this was a short walk!”
“C’mon stop being such a wuss, you’ll see it’s totally worth it when we get to the top”
Of course he’d say that! He’s not 8 years old with legs that are shorter than most of the rocks on this mountain face. We've been driving around California for 2 days now, and after this ‘super fun walk’ we are on, we head down the Big Sur for another 2 weeks in the desert. So far we haven’t seen much, just airport walls and the cramped back seat of our convertible. Don’t bother asking why mom wanted one, I’ve barely eaten this trip since I’m usually full of bugs that landed in my mouth by the time we get to the restaurant.
I’ve never hiked before but Dad loves it, and you know what they say; “When in Yosemite National Park”. I keep tripping over my feet, getting stuck on the large rocks that span the 2.5 miles of the hike. Dad keeps saying the higher you get, the better the view, but all I see is rocks, trees, my dad’s butt, and some places that seem a little too much like a bear cave.
“I swear we have been climbing for an hour, do we have enough food? What if we get stuck? Who’s gonna save us? You know this is like a utopia for bears Dad! Did you ever think that through before you jumped out of the car to climb up a random mountain?”
“Your brain is a little too active, kid. Just enjoy the hike. I’m telling you, you will be thanking me once we reach the peak. You’ll be hooked to the feeling”
“Yeah totally. What the thing with you and peaks. It's like a drug addict and crack”
“Cadence! You are 8 years old, please don’t talk about crack!” Yells mom from behind me. Dad just laughs, not denying that he’s addicted to the high of hiking, which may I add I do not understand. This is more distressing than soothing.
“All right, prepare yourself. We are getting close” Dad says as he rubs his hands together as if his evil plan is finally playing out.
“Oh thank god, that just means we are that much closer to climbing back -” My snarky comment is cut off as I round the corner of the last larger-than-life rock, revealing the cliff that looks out onto the rolling mountains of the Yosemite Valley. As much as I hate to say dad’s right, he was right about this. There truly is nothing like the reward of the peak at the top of the mountain.
“See that over there is Half Dome, one of the most famous rock climbing mountains in the world. And just behind it is El Capitan, one of the hardest rock climbing mountains, only 3 people have done it successfully.”
I look up at Dad, catching the genuine smile plastered all over his face, making me feel like this was all worth it.
“Thank you for making me do this. You were right, it’s worth it.” I say as I lean in and give him a hug.
“Told you so,” He says as he squeezes back and walks away taking in the view from a different point.
“I’m gonna go sit over there and just look okay”
“Please be careful, I don’t need you to go and fall off this cliff,” mom says as she walks towards the middle of the cliff, not getting close to the edge.
As I walk to the edge, I test my luck and take a seat right on the barriers and take in the view, looking up and down, side to side. However, when I look back in front of me, I notice something shiny, like a wire dipped in gold sparkles.
“Hey dad what’s this rope for?”
“Probably rock climbing. Just leave it” I look back to see he isn’t even looking, and mom is too busy reading the sign about the kinds of vegetation there is to help.
I roll my eyes as I turn back and stare at the rope. It’s a weird feeling I get when I look at it, it feels like a magnet trying to pull my hand to it. Mom would call that impulsive behavior, but I call it a rope that really wants me to take it. I look around one more time to make sure no one’s watching before I reach out just past the barriers to reach it. I get closer, and closer, and finally I wrap my hand around the beautiful glittering rope.
Rush
“Dad! Can you hurry up? I wanna see the view from the top before the sun goes down!” I yell out down the parking lot while Dad fumbles with the map and compass.
“Wow look at you! Came such a long way from the little 8-year-old who complained the whole way up her first mountain” He laughs as he shuffles towards me at the base of the mountain. It’s been so long since the first hike that I barely remember complaining. All I can remember is that first taste of the peak. Since then I’ve hiked tens of mountains and every time I get to the top I feel as if I belong there.
“You know, I bet that my quick last-minute decision to climb that mountain changed your life!” Dad says with pride as he still fumbles around with the map still.
“Well it definitely peaked my interest, I’ll give you that”
“Ha. I see what you did there” We both laugh.
I do have to admit, without that hike I probably wouldn’t have been standing at the base of Mt. Phelps right now. As I look up at the entrance, I feel my hand starting to tingle. I look down and there sits the golden rope that I saw all those years ago on that mountain in California. I truly believed I had made it up, but now here it is, in the flesh. What does this mean? Where did this come from? The rope in my hand begins to shake, I try to let it go, but it turns out it really was a magnet to my hand and not just an impulse. The rope shoots up the mountain lighting a path for us to take.
“Hey, Dad? I think I know what way we should go up”
“Oh okay, I see how it is. This girl climbs mount Washington and thinks she’s the expert” he laughs out as he pats my back. “By all means, lead the way”
I walk up the mountain eager to feel the high, the rope pulling me towards the peak. I pick up the pace, impatient to see what this rope will bring me next. Dad is trailing behind me, but I don’t slow down to let him catch up, I have to see what this rope wants me to. As I approach the peak, the rope runs out, leaving my hand empty and my heart pounding. Did I go the wrong way?
As I turn back around to go look for the rope, I run into dad and he turns me around back towards the cliff.
“Chickening out?”
“No, I think I dropped something, I was just looking for it.”
“Nah, I had my eyes on the trail the whole time, nothing but leaves and sticks back there. Now c’mon what happened to my little adrenaline junkie.”
“Hey, I'm not so little anymore.” I slap him across the chest.
“Yeah yeah I know, you’re a 14-year-old grown woman. I got it. Now can we go see the cliff?”
There’s something about the rush of standing on that edge, having the control not to fall but knowing that it could be your demise. As I get to the very edge of the highest peak on the mountain, I take a seat, as I did all those years ago and I look at all my surroundings. I take in the fresh mountain air as it fills my lungs and the chill that runs down my spine every time I glance down beneath me. With the height of the rocky mountain peak, I take a deep breath and turn my focus back to the view, and that’s when it reappears. The rope sits just within my reach, the same as it did all those years ago, with its gold glitter floating down into the valley, pulling my body closer to it. I reach my hand out and pull it towards me.
Everything I Have
“Ladies and Gentlemen, your finalist for the 1500m freestyle” Mumbles the announcer through the loudspeaker.
“In lane 4, Candance Patton” I roll my eyes as I approach the block.
“Cadence Patton!” I correct. “It’s Cadence”
The officials standing around laugh at my display. I walk to the back of the prep area and take off the 4 layers of warm-up gear I have on. Parka, sweater, t-shirt, sweatpants. The warm poolside air brushes against my skin, the last ounce of comfort I will have before I dive into the freezing pool to swim for the next 30 minutes. The start of the race is always the scariest part, plunging off the board praying you to get far enough, and stay shallow enough, and that your goggles stay suctioned to your face rather than your forehead or cheeks, and that your sacrifice of not conditioning your hair for the last 4 days ensures that your bathing cap stays glued to your head. The worrisome thoughts flood my brain as I adjust and re-adjust my suit, my cap, and my goggles. I can’t stop adjusting, something in me begs for every moment to be perfect, for this race to show everyone what I am capable of. As I approach the block waiting for the head official to blow his whistle, I take a look at my team waiting for me at the other side of the pool getting ready to cheer me on and help me keep track of my laps. I see my coach standing at his table, his eyes laser-focused on me, silently screaming to give it everything I got. I look from side to side at my opponents, all of them shaking their arms or jumping around, all of us the same, all of us ready to make it to the top of the podium.
The loud whistle wakes me up out of my trance of observation, zoning me back into the challenge that lays ahead. 1 dive, 1 touch, 59 flips, 60 laps. The second whistle blows, and in unison, all 8 of us get onto the diving boards and prepare for the start. The silence of the crowds by the pool is deafening as all of us slap our legs and arms, push our goggles extra tight, kick the footboard to make sure it doesn't slip when we dive. I bend down and place my hands on the edge, knuckles white in anticipation.
“Racers. On your marks!” the announcer on my left says into the obscenely loud loudspeaker.
The start gun fires.
My body slices through the icy water, and I allow all the worries to slip from my mind as I focus on the race. High elbows, kick the feet, pull the water, flip, push, breathe. High elbows, kick the feet, pull the water, flip, push, breathe. The routine sets in and I lose myself to the race.
It isn’t until my team slides the sign over the wall to let me know that I am on my last 100m that I gain consciousness. As I flip, I try to catch a glimpse of my opponents and there’s no one in sight. This race is mine. It takes everything I have, but I swim as I have never swum before, hitting my last 4 laps in under a minute. I know I have this, I’m going to be king of freestyle, everything is coming up Cadence. I approach my last 25m and out of the corner of my eye, I see the girl in lane 8 gaining on me, slowly coming closer and closer. The girl that was the last to qualify is about to beat me. I have barely anything left in me, I try to kick my legs harder but they won’t budge, my arms feel like they are pulling through molasses. I frantically swim, forgetting all the technique, just hoping I touch the pad before she does. The race is neck and neck. Every time I breathe on my left, I see her. For the last 15m, I stop breathing. I stop convincing myself that there’s nothing left and I push past all my limits. Within a matter of 2 seconds, I pull ahead and with only 5 meters left, I can see the gold. Lane 8 tries her best to catch me, but I am unbeatable at this moment. My hand slams into the wall, my body quickly following behind. My teammates roar from the other side of the pool. My coach is hugging anyone in sight.
I won.
I can see my communities papers already “Cadence “The King of Freestyle” Patton. Splashes from the other side of the pool catch my attention as I see my whole team swimming toward the center of the pool. I swim towards them and we all celebrate our team's win. Everything feels complete.
Within all the chaos, something catches my eye in the middle of the pool and I feel instantly drawn to it. As I swim closer, I realize the gold rope is back, this time floating around in the water, waiting for me. With the little energy I have left in my arms, I reach out and get a hold of it.
Drifting
My head spins as the sirens blare, and the cramped back of the ambulance overwhelms my senses. The pain is close to unbearable and the EMT isn’t helping at all.
“You know what would be so good right now?” He says as he holds the splint around my leg, bracing it as we drive through the bumpy Quebec roads. I’m in shock. Unable to form any words.
“A good sirloin steak. You know the kind that breaks the bank?”
This man has impeccable timing to be joking around. I get he is trying to distract me, but nothing distracts me from the pain shooting up my leg, feeling as if it is in flames.
“Do you have anything to help with the pain?” I manage to mumble out, moving past his previous comment.
“Ice Pack coming right up,” He says as he releases my leg from his firm hold to pull one from his bag. I wince at the sudden movement, a whole new flood of pain moving up my leg and into the rest of my body. I scoff at the idea of an ice pack being enough to numb this pain.
“Got anything stronger”
He laughs at my comment while he carefully places the icepack on my knee.
I haven’t looked at it since my first glimpse in the gym. I was playing volleyball in my last period. My body felt tired from the weekend's competition but I was still riding on the high of gaining the title of King of Freestyle that I still thought I was invincible.
I was invincible.
Now, as I lay in the back of the ambulance, all I can do is hope that this pain is just simply this extreme because I am tired, and that I’ll be back in the pool by tomorrow. Or maybe next week. The small glimpse I got of my knee suggests that it might be worse than it feels.
The EMT continues with his small talk. I try my best to answer him, but the pain floods all my senses, pulling me in and out of consciousness. I get vague images of being pulled out of the ambulance, being brought into emergency, being put onto the x-ray table, and being brought to a room. A friendly nurse comes in and tells me that they are going to put me to sleep for a little while so they can put my knee back where it belongs.
Images of my team, swimming alongside me, celebrating my win the night before flash before my eyes as my world slowly turns black.
I wake up with the pain gone and a flood of relief hits me. It was all just a dream. As I go to sit up, my mom is right there by my side pushing me back down telling me I need to lay down and wait for the medication to wear off. At her words, I finally take in my surroundings and realize I lay in the same room that I thought was just a dream. IVs sticking out of my arm, an oxygen mask attached to my face. The nurse returns to the room and helps me take off the mask.
“Welcome back,” she says with a smile on her face.
“How bad is it?” I don’t bother exchanging pleasantries.
“Well, you had a dislocated kneecap. And since your kneecap is generally supposed to say in the center, when it popped to the side all the ligaments and tendons stretched and tore”
“How fast will I be able to recover? I have a competition in 2 weeks, I can’t miss that!” I exclaim hoping she’ll tell me I’ll be good to go in a couple of days.
“Well everyone’s recovery process is different but you need to keep your leg completely immobilized for the next month. It is super fragile right now and any movement could worsen it”
“A month! I just gave the swimming performance of a lifetime last night, and now I can’t even move my leg for a month?” I try to stay calm but it feels like all the progress I’ve made has just come crumbling down, all at the hands of one faulty jump in volleyball.
“I’m afraid so”
I’m rendered speechless. All I can do is stare out blankly at the wall in front of me. I can feel the tears rushing down my cheeks and I don’t try to wipe them away. My mom steps out into the hallway with the nurse. I can hear the mumbling about recovery plans, and I feel as if time has frozen, that the universe is playing some sick joke on me. As these thoughts flood my mind, a familiar tingling sensation grows in my left hand but I refuse to look down. This can’t be a moment where I find the string. I realized last night that the string has only appeared in good moments in my life and there is no good in this moment. I try my hardest to let it go, to shake it off, but it remains stuck to my hand. There's no way to make sense of a moment like this, a moment where I quite possibly just lost everything I have worked so hard to get too. I give up trying to let go, and I drift off into sleep with the string now tied around my hand.
Reaching Out
My hand glides across the ancient stone of Greek Architecture, this barrier between myself and the sea, built centuries before I was even a figment of reality.
“This wall was most recently put in after a storm of 2019 that caused a wave to crash into this town, flooding all the shops,” says the tour guide.
Okay, maybe this wall is not so ancient after all, but despite my confusion about a wall that is a year old, Greece is probably one of the greatest places I have ever been. I have done a lot of traveling in my life, but this is the first time I’m out in the world without my parents. It feels like all the tiny moments in my life have blessed me and given me the opportunity to travel the world. When I get back home, I’ve decided that after I graduate I am going to get a job and save up all my money and never stop seeing the world. I mean how could I go back to a normal life when I have gotten a taste of paradise?
“Can you believe we are actually in Greece?” Exclaims Sophie as we walk along the boardwalk barely listening to the tour guide.
“I know it’s insane! And in a few days we will be in the land of your people” I say back to Sophie laughing at her excitement before our departure that’ll she will finally be one with her culture when we get to Italy.
“Well actually my family is from Venice, and since we had to cancel that part of the trip, I’ll only be in Rome” she sulks.
“Only in Rome?” I laugh, “What a privileged thing to say” The look she gives me feels like it’s burning into my skin. I put my hands up in defeat.
“I’m just messing around, but I agree it kinda sucks that we had to lose that part to whatever that virus is called” I can’t seem to remember the name…
“Corona. It’s apparently all over Northern Italy. It’s bullshit if you ask me. No ones gonna care anymore about it in like 2 weeks.” she says, annoyed.
“One can hope”.
*
The tour guide finally left after about an hour. Sophie and I really tried to pay attention but all we heard was blah blah blah blah blah. I mean the history is extremely interesting, don't get me wrong, but after a 12-hour flight, all of us just want to explore the town for ourselves.
“God, how is everything so perfect here,” I say as I take a seat on the wall that I thought was built by Greek Gods.
“It’s gotta be the ocean. Probably blessed by a nymph or something.” Sophie says as she continues to walk around in circles on the pier.
“Yeah, I’m sure that's what it is” I laugh. “I could stay here forever” She laughs at me but I continue. “Seriously, I’ll move back here after high school, work in a cafe or something, just enough to earn a living. I would be dirt poor but rich in experience.”
“Wouldn’t you get sick of seeing the same thing every day?”
I look out to the horizon, the sun setting and filling the sky with hues of orange, pink, and blue, cascading the sea in its glimmering rays, filling the air with its warm light.
“I could never get …” my train of thought is cut off at the sight of something glittering down in the waves hitting the shore.
“Never get what?” Sophie’s eyes peeking over the edge, trying to see what I’m lost to.
“Sick of this,” I say as I turn around, gauging how far the jump from the wall to the rocks would be. My feet dangle on the edge, feeling that magnetic pull I’ve felt all those times before.
“Cadence, I swear to god if you are thinking of jumping off this wall right now and you bust your knee again, I will bust your other knee,” Sophie yells from behind me.
“I’m not gonna jump! I just gotta figure out a way down there”
“What is so important down there”
“I just feel like that’s where I need to be,” I say, looking off into the distance.
“God cadence you aren’t Ernest Hemingway, stop trying to be all mysterious” she scoffs “There’s a ladder over there” she points a few meters down the pier. I stand up and quickly make my way over.
“Seriously, what is so important down there?”
“I was thinking about going for a swim”
“Ha. Good one.”
“What?” I laugh as I start my descent down the ladder, “I like swimming”
“You haven’t swum since you were pulled out of the gym on a stretcher” she holds her stance at the top of the ladder, glaring down at me.
“Maybe it’s time a try again”
My feet land on the slippery rocks, my feet instantly soaked by the waves crashing against the shore. The string got pulled further out from where it was the last time I saw it. My heart feels trapped in my throat as I think about swimming out there. The pain resurfaces as I consider all that I lost that day. Recovery took longer than anticipated and by the time I was given the clear from my doctor to get back in the pool, I was paralyzed by the fear of failure to ever step foot in the racing pool again. But the string calls to me. Telling me I have spent too many years wasting away in the fear, too many years not reaching out and grabbing what's mine. I take my first step into the cool Mediterranean ocean, the hair on my arms and back standing up as I take in the sudden shock of the water, the way I remember from all those years ago. I keep going, working my way deeper, letting the water drench my clothing and wash away my worries. Once I get deep enough, I finally start swimming in the direction of the rope, feeling more like myself than I ever have before. That’s when I reaffirm my promise to myself. I know I will come back here, I will spend my days finding the places that bring me out of me, I can’t let go of this feeling. As I swim around, I look left and right for the string, and then it appears right in front of my eyes, telling me it's time to finally grab my life by the ropes and make it mine.
2020
My family's cheers and congratulations get the whole neighborhood's attention as we stand in the parking lot across the street from my house. If you were to tell me 3 months ago as I was sitting on the plane going from Greece to Rome that I would have a drive-through graduation and that I can’t even hug my family on one of the biggest days in my young adult life, I would’ve laughed in your face. Now I just feel like I wanna lay down in a ball and cry. It’s not that I really wanted to sit in a crowded room full of people I don’t plan on keeping in touch with the second I leave this school or go on a boat for prom where a bunch of those people will get secretly drunk and make dumb decisions. It's just the fact that I don’t even have the chance to complain about those things that really gets to me.
As I stand here, in a blue gown that isn’t even mine, one that I had to borrow from someone who got a prom, I just smile and thank all my family members. 6 feet apart of course. They all put their cards in a basket that they pass along the parking lot, and then they leave one by one, leaving it just to me and my parents. I just graduated high school and there are no friends to celebrate it with, no party, no cake, just me in a blue gown that isn’t even mine.
I try my best to fake a smile for my mom and dad, but it’s getting harder each second.
“Do you mind if we take a couple of pics? I know it’s not how we pictured this day but might as well make the best of it” my mom says as she pulls out the most beautiful bouquet of flowers.
“Of course, can’t let a dress like this go to waste,” I say as I twirl the skirt, making her smile.
As I pose for the camera, I think of all the schools I missed out on and how next year will be the same. Cegep in front of a screen. I think about how this summer won’t be like the others, that I won’t get to travel but will instead be stuck staying 6 feet away from the fun. But I also think about how fortunate I was to be able to go on a trip to Europe and get back 3 days before the world shut down. I think about how not a single person in my family has gotten sick, and that while it sucks they can’t be here with me right now, at least I know they’ll all be there the next time we can.
“Thanks for organizing all this Mom, I really means a lot to have something today”
“If anyone deserves a grad, it’s you. You're going to go to big places I just know it”
I blush at her compliments.
“I’m serious. You are such a hardworking student and you’re going to see how much you will be rewarded for that”
“Let’s just hope the financial compensation is in the quadruple digits” we both laugh.
*
I take in my surroundings, looking at the dozens of balloons that my sister set up outside as I was going through the process of my drive-through grad. Balloons that congratulate me, that taunt me with the message of graduating in 2020, that have my school colors, and then my eyes land on one bundle, and I immediately feel drawn to it. As I walk over to try and take them down from the balcony of my porch, I realize they are tied with a glimmering string and that I just pulled it.
Moving On
“Mom!” I yell out as I stare at my computer screen, completely dumbfounded at what I’m seeing. “Mom! Come down here” I yell out again, hoping she will come. My body is cemented to the chair, no matter how hard I try to move, I am too stunned to remember how to control my limbs.
“What is the matter?” mom pants as she stands in my doorway.
“Come look at this and tell me it’s real. Or pinch me and wake me up out of this dream”
She looks at me questionably as she approaches me at my desk. She leans over to look at the computer screen that my eyes have been glued on for the last few minutes.
“What even is this?” she asks
“The presentation for the winners of the 10 awards that go to the 2020 graduates.”
“Holy shit,” she says.
“My sentiments exactly,” I say as we both stare at the computer screen.
7 times. My name is written on the screen 7 times. That’s 7 awards for me. 7 awards that I won.
“I know I joked about the financial compensation being in the quadruple digits at my grad but I didn’t think it would actually happen,” I say as I try to mask my excitement in disbelief.
“I told you you’re going to do great things” she exclaims as she reaches down, grabs my shoulders, and gives me a good shake that could feel like encouragement or that she's trying to kill me and take my money.
She releases her firm grip, guess it was encouragement.
“With this plus the other scholarships you applied for, you could do whatever you wanted with that money! It’s too much to dedicate just to school”
“Wait? I don’t only have to use it for school?” I ask, in total disbelief.
“Of course not! It’s yours, they can’t tell you what to do with it”
I nod my head in agreement and look back at the screen. I’m not a materialistic person, I swear. But knowing I have this kind of money, money that I have never had before, I’m not quite sure what to do with it. Images of my friends saving all their money to buy a car, or my cousins saving it all for a new Gucci purse. I could do those things, but the images of walking down the pier in Greece flash in my eyes, swimming in the Mediterranean ocean again, going as far as my arms and legs will take me. Have a picnic at the park in front of the Eiffel Tower or go scuba diving in Hawaii. A couple more scholarships and a summer job, that all could be mine. My mom wakes me up out of my daydreaming trance and she gently pats me on the back,
“Don’t be like your brother and spend it all at bars and restaurants” she says “we got food in the fridge” she laughs as she makes her way out of the room. Don't worry mom, I think as I look back down at my computer screen and continue to dream of all the places to go.
*
“And this is Cadence Patton,” says the woman standing in front of the camera gesturing at me, “the recipient of the 2022 Dejardins award for academic achievement”
My mother beams on the other side of the camera. I’ve been trying to keep my excitement on the down low, but this is what I have been working so hard for for the last 2 years. Ever since my 7 high school awards, I have been saving to be able to get back out there and see the world, and now that the border is open, and I’m graduating cegep, the world is wide open for me to see. This day is the final push out the door I needed.
“So tell me Cadence,” the interviewer asks, the camera now pointed directly at me. “How does it feel to get the recognition you deserve for all your hard work”
I spit out the first ideas that come to my mind, I’ve never been one for being the center of attention, and being asked questions about my achievement with a camera in my face isn’t necessarily what I would call fun. But, I work my way through each question as best as I can, and when it’s finally towards the end, she hands over the big check, shakes my hand, and walks off with her camera crew.
My mom runs over with two boxes in her hands, one plain white, and one bright pink with a golden string tied around it. I immediately recognize the string and feel pulled towards it again.
“Mom, what is this?” I say as I reach out for the pink box. Her hand strikes mine as she hits it away.
“Someone's greedy” she laughs “Take this one first,” she says as she hands me the plain white box.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” I say as I open the box. My nose is greeted with the faint smell of vanilla buttercream as I read the “congratulations cadence” message written across the cake in pink icing.
“I figured since you didn’t get a cake for your first grad, we might as well get you one now”
The gesture is so sweet, that I can’t help but tear up a bit. It’s hard letting go of another school. I’m moving on from this part of my life and entering another, and it is all bittersweet. I look down at the cake and remember all the moments over the past couple of years and how much my life has changed.
My reminiscing is cut short by a tingling feeling in my hand that I know all too well. The pink present calls out to me again and my hand starts reaching for it.
“Damn, you must really want whatever is in this” mom says as she hands it over to me.
The golden string glimmers in the sunlight as I look down at the perfect bow it has created. I can’t even imagine what this box and string have in store for me, but I’m ready to find out. I place the cake down on the table and begin untying the bow.
The Good and The Bad
“Excuse me miss, would you like a beverage or a snack?” The flight attendant asks, prompting me to look up from my hands. I can barely make out an answer, my mind is moving too fast.
“Oh… um… No… Um… No thank you” I finally spit out.
She just smiles as she walks to the next aisle to ask the same question, and I glance back down at my hands. A glimmering gold string is resting in my hands, same as all the times before, yet this one feels different somehow. It’s not pulling me towards it this time. No, it seems like it's coming into me, wrapping itself around me, begging to be a part of me, rather than me to be a part of it. The strings do nothing but sit in my hands, my palms face open. The magnetic pull asks me to close my hands around it, and that's what I do.
Within a moment, I am sitting on that same mountain I did all those years ago, glancing out to the Yosemite Valley. I think about my dad, telling me about my overactive imagination, thinking that maybe this is another case of it. I look around, taking in the view again, feeling just as great as the first time. I hear familiar voices off in the distance. My dad, standing in the same spot he did when I reached out for that rope, except this time he’s looking at me sitting on the edge. He’s smiling, watching the younger me look out onto the cliff. I watch him walk over to the younger me, and he sits down right next to her.
“So,” he says, “do you think you’d want to keep doing things like this?” He asks as they look out onto the horizon.
“Wait, there are more places to hike?”
Dad laughs at the younger me and her complete unawareness of the world around her. I smile at his laughter, and the way he looks down at me. I never noticed the love in his eyes, but at this moment, he’s beaming. He wraps his arm around younger me’s shoulder and pulls her in.
“Of course, there’s a whole world to explore. I wish for nothing more than you to get to see every corner of this beautiful planet”
I take a step back, hearing his words solidify in my mind why I found the string when I did. This moment built my relationship with my father. Started all our adventures of hiking to every peak, and seeing every horizon. I smile, silently thanking my dad for the ideas he has instilled in me. I feel my hands tightening over the string in my hand and all a sudden I end up standing in an old familiar locker room, the comforting smell of chlorine flooding my senses, bringing back all the old memories of my hours and hours spent in the pool. I walk through the room heading towards the pool as if I have memorized this place by heart. I reach the door but out of the corner of my eye, I spot an old friend and another younger version of me. Except this version of me isn’t beaming out at a horizon, smiling up at my dad, no this one is sitting on the bathroom floor crying with friends surrounding her, trying to console and stop the tears flowing from her eyes.
“I just don’t get it! I work my ass off every day for him and he doesn’t even care” I hear myself choke out. Every word cuts through me, forcing me to relieve the pain.
“Don’t you think you’re pushing it a little bit too much?” Says Yasmine, one of the girls from my old team.
“It’s like you don’t even enjoy swimming anymore,” says Rachel, another teammate.
I observe the younger me and see her defenses being built up. That was something I remember being so insecure about, never being good enough for the team. I used to train for deadly hours, I was always sore, always crying in fear that my coach wouldn’t be impressed.
“I have to win this one guys, I gotta prove it to him” the younger me manages to make out through her sobs. My heart cracks at her pain, one that I remember all too well. As I stand there, I finally see those years without rose-coloured glasses and see them for what they truly were: years of me making myself sick over being the best, of never having time for anyone or anything other than training, of me sitting on the bathroom floor crying. I feel my hands tense around the string and I end up watching my younger self trying to learn how to walk again, just a few months after my final race in the pool. I can see the pain I was going through in those moments, the feeling of self-loathing and not understanding why I was there. It’s written all over my face every time I try to take a step. Suddenly it’s all clear to me why I ended up there. It was my body’s way of telling me to take care of myself, practically begging me to learn how to live a life outside of the pool. The tears begin to pool in my eyes, I try to blink them away and when I open back up my eyes, I’m standing on the same pier I stood in Greece back in high school. I watch myself motion for my friends to join me as I climb down the ladder of the pier. I watch myself run towards the Mediterranean, laughing and splashing anyone in her path. I realize that that was one of the first moments after my injury that I had felt like myself, the first time I decided to live a life I loved.
I smile, thinking about the plane I was sitting on before the rope showed up in my hands, and where it is heading to. Realizing that the trip taught me the beauty of seeing the world the way my father always wished I would. The rope begins to pull me in a new direction, I resist, wanting nothing more than to relive one of the happiest moments of my life, but before I know it I see myself walking up on stage, getting my diploma in education. I think back to all the moments that lead me there. Months and months of staring at a computer screen, talking to a bunch of black boxes. Sitting through in-person classes, never once seeing any of their faces. Yet looking out onto myself on that stage, I can’t help but be filled with joy when I think about all I endured to get to this moment I am in now.
Suddenly, all these moments zoom past my eyes, flooding my senses with the good and the bad, reminding me of all the moments in my life that are the reason I am who I am today. I can’t help but shed a few tears as I return back to my seat on the airplane, the nostalgia and thankfulness overtaking my emotions.
“Are you all right dear?” asks the older woman sitting in the seat next to me.
I quickly wipe away the tears as I try to think of something to say.
“I just began to realize how lucky I am to live the life I’ve been given, even the moments that I thought were the end of me” I surprisingly spit out, unsure of where my sudden burst of honesty came from.
“Oh, I know that feeling very well. I used to tell my kids that you need to hang on to both the moments when you're flying and the moments when you're crying. They give you the strength to be anything you want to be”
I simply nod at her words since I am at a complete loss for my own. She just smiles as she returns back to the pages within her book.
But her words resonate with me. As I glance out the airplane window, I realize that life is made out of so many moments, and it's only what you do with them that counts. My past and future have always been something I held onto and dreamed of, but at this moment, I realize, it’s all the little moments in between that matter the most.