THE POINT (A MONOLOGUE)
I remember it well. See, Idyllwild has bi-polar weather: one day the birds are in the sky, and as you watch them fly by, the sun blinds your vision. And other days there is so much snow that the world around you becomes a black and white photograph. However, this afternoon was different. There was fog, and snow, and rain all at once. We were running, he and I, we ran into the forest. I could barely see anything, it was as if the rain had put out an incredible bonfire beneath us, and the smoke still lingered. We were running up the hill, I felt the mist caress my face and start to wither the make-up around my eyes. The bitter cold, like ice on salt, burnt into me. I didn’t want to run that far or that fast, but he told me it would be worth it. The snow proved difficult, and I tripped amongst the unknown on the ground. When he helped me up, his hands felt so warm compared to my surroundings. I could see the edge, the precarious line, we were close. I staggered to the top, the ‘Point’ they called it. This place where people go, a view, to just sit and sit, lose their thoughts like brushing away dust. Into the haze I saw warm glowing lights struggling through the thick sheet of cloud. These guides beyond the mountain, glowed, blurring, fire on water. The height and beauty of this peak stunned me. Everything sunk away from my head, my heart, and out through my feet, I was numb. One single tear trickled down my stone cheek as I stared out and remembered.