A Better Angle
This is Part 2 of what is likely a 4–5 part series. You can catch up on Part 1 here.
It was a beautiful sunset. That is undeniable, but the sun dropped fast and we were separated by a 60-foot cliff. My son was at the top with the rope, and I was at the bottom. We were both helpless.
It was a great plan. I figured an hour was more than enough time to execute the beautiful father/son moment at the top of a cliff. Something he could remember, or more likely something I wanted to remember years from now while sitting on my deck somewhere quiet, near trees. I would have a memory of this moment, watching the sun go down from the top of a cliff with my son next to me.
My voice was calm but inside it was shaking. “I’m going to climb up over here to talk you through the next steps.”
“Dad,” his voice not so under control, shaky, and I wondered if that is what mine sounded like, “that looks too steep.” I was already climbing up. It’s so much easier to climb up. It wasn’t safe, but I needed him to hear what I had to say and the wind was blowing and the darkness was dropping on us, and we couldn’t hear each other through the wind and shaky fear.
And when you hear your kid say “dad” with that fear in their voice, you do stupid things.
I climbed up about 30 feet to a point where if I fell, I wouldn’t die, but there would be broken bones. I started to traverse a steep section that would get me closer to my son…
