in spite of the overgrowth between the beachhead and summit. The area was practically a perfect plane, with the painstaking care and neatness that would drive even the most expert of groundskeepers mad with envy. In the center of the area sat a small reflective pond, and while I cursed the mid-day sun for its biting heat, I couldn't help but admit that the sparkling properties of its light, dancing on the surface of the waters could very well substitute for a Wonder of the World. "Just this way,� Mayweather said with a gruff gesture to the far right, swinging his arm with the littlest of care; though his otherwise stoic voice got caught up in his throat for the briefest of moments. I never knew the old man to take pause. The wheelchair's rubber was hushed by the grass beneath it, leaving little tracks where the treads had been. We approached a large patch of foliage, where upon I was directed to go around it in a tone that tried to hide how disappointed it was for me not having figured out how to do so myself. From this height, the crashing booms of the waves against the rocks were little more than whispers, grazing our ears only gently enough to be heard by me; being his age, Mayweather couldn't exactly hear with the same preciseness. Rounding the trimmed shrubbery, I had to part some of the stiff branches to get through a particularly thin sec-
15
tion. But when I did, my eyes were met with tragedy. This portion of the summit was unlike the rest, but not in a good way either. The beauty in this area seemed only like vague nostalgia, as traces of evidence were left behind: among the overgrowth was a wrought iron bench, though the intricate swirls and curves of the metal were an ugly blackish red, rust eating away at the remnants of the seat's matte finish. The surrounding ferns and various other bushes made what was practically a wall to the little niche, the only open section being the cliff's edge. The bench faced toward it, looking out over miles upon miles of calm, breath-taking seas. A shadow was cast over the tall, grassy area, by that of a gangly, twisted form. The old tree that caused this looked a willow, but the dark brown color of its rigid, chipping bark implied otherwise. I had to stop myself from admiring the bittersweet scene and squeeze the handles of the chair, as a deep sigh escaped Mayweather's 1ips. "You know,� he mumbled