Every Day a Snow Day


I wish everyone moved as carefully and thoughtfully as they do on the first day of fresh snowfall. I wish every approached intersections with caution and attentiveness, made eye contact with others, negotiated paths of travel in a reasonable manner, understood that the world is dangerous but is navigable with some vigilance.

----

The rope is stiff and dries my hand as it slides over callouses not quite ready; even though I know I'm safe, the sound and tiny jolts that come from the knot settling into itself beat a moment of fear through me. Resting while dangling is not a rest when I can't relax my hands.

"Put your hands in your chalk bag," he orders me from the other end of the rope.

"No, it's terrifying."

"That's why I'm telling you to do it."

My hands reach behind me, almost without my permission, and tentatively search for the fleece pocket dangling from the base of my spine like a broken tail. The movement tips my balance, and I start spinning, gently. I close my eyes, so the slow oscillation as my face passes from light to shadow is my only cue for movement.

"Now get back on the rock."

I get back on the rock.

02 March 2014 17:29


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