The sun arched over the sky, glittering behind faint traces of clouds, which lazily skipped through the air. My palms were itchy, irritated by the loose gravel which had separated from the sandy cliff below me. The surface of the rock was clean, barren of unruly scars. I could see an entire valley from where I was perched, free, like a bird.
The mountains in the distance echoed whisperings of memories in my ears. They stayed in the back of my mind as I turned my head to look at the boy who sat next to me, his long fingers tracing a design in the orange dust.
Feeling my eyes on him, he parted his mouth and asked, “I’m different now, aren’t I?”
I took a moment to consider. I suppose he was looking for some sort of consolation in this question, searching for the answer somewhere deep within himself. Just like we all are.
The sun was beginning to disappear over the mountains, a miracle which we have all become accustomed to. It’s amazing. The small things, waking up in the morning, to the simple breaths we take in and out, have gone so unnoticed. So under-appreciated.
I began to answer him, letting my earthly worries attach themselves to cotton puffs of cloud and float carelessly away.
“Everything has changed.”
He turned to face me, one dark eyebrow raised. A trace of amusement lit his eyes. They matched the color of the sun-burnt wood scattered across the rock.
I let him wonder about my words, taking a moment to smile. The truth is, we were all changed. The blades of grass rustling in the faint wind, the transformation of a girlish giggle to independance. Up here I felt like a deity, legs dangling high above the howls of the highway.
I stood from my nest on the cliff, and offered a sunburned hand to the boy sitting indian-style on the ground. He took it, and we climbed back the way we had come, through the rivers of tumbled rocks, past the tumbleweeds who grew sturdily, believing they were the kings of the world.
