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It is wet and slippery along the path today and I feel a deep fatigue settling over me as I fight to stay within its bounds. The path has narrowed over the winter months, forcing me dangerously close to the edge. I can't stop. I can't go back just yet. Recklessly, I defy the slippery slope. A jagged branch grabs my sweater and for a second I fear this time Glen has followed me. I shiver, picking up the pace to warm myself and force the terror from my veins. Jason's Jut appears ahead as I come around a sharp bend in the river. I always come upon this part of the trail with a murky, uneasy feeling crawling through me. Named for a young boy who accepted a dare, it is a small, enticing piece of land extending several feet out over the river. It is just wide enough for two small feet to fit, squeezed tight together. Jason's friend challenged him to step backward with eyes shut onto this tiny piece of land. A twelve year old boy must appear manly, so Jason accepted the challenge, taking those tiny, backward steps, slowly, inch by inch, until his heels dangled dangerously over the river's edge. Seconds later, the challenge met and, bathing in his friend's cheers, the earth gave way beneath Jason's toes and the river took him under. Chicken wire stretches across what is left of the point and a small white cross leans toward the river. Dusk moves in rapidly and I begin to lose sight of the path as I near Jason's Jut. Something looks different. Shadows often cast spells over the path at dusk, so I push ahead. Instinctively, I slow as I near the shrub that hides the jut from view. Three steps and I'll be safely beyond it. One, two… in a blink I see the fence is gone - the cross - the earth that once held it has vanished. My foot slips on the slimy, ragged river edge and I gasp as the ice cold water grabs my legs. Abruptly I become aware that the angry wetness has reached my neck and is filling my mouth, my lungs. Coughing, sputtering, choking, gasping for air, the frigid cold takes my breath. Pressure builds in my ears, behind my eyes and I cry out. Glen's contorted face appears before me, his black, angry eyes penetrating any strength I have, his fist raised in rage. I struggle for breath, reaching out for something to grab. But exhaustion takes over and defeated I shut my eyes, surrendering to the river just as young Jason did in the very same spot. My mind goes still at last, giving up the fight. Free of the fear, I open myself and let the peace and silence consume me. But out of the dark quiet, I hear a baby's cry. My eyes flash open and I turn to see the face of a baby I know is mine; the soft pink skin, the shock of black hair, my father's eyes. The baby cries for me, begging me to hold him, to rescue him from the dark, from his fear. I blindly stretch out my arms, struggling to reach the infant who is just out of reach and unexpectedly find myself sucking in the cold night air, bobbing to the surface of the raging river. I am propelled by my baby's need; fighting with strength I didn't know I had I push, battle back against the river, grabbing a branch that catches my eye on the river's edge, and lean into the baby's cries.
*** END ***
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