The Fall
The drop is fast. Air fills my lungs one second, and is knocked out by water the next. I have just successfully taken the plunge. I am elated and incredibly impressed with myself. Never before have I fallen from so high so fast. And yet, it was so slow at the same time. For a moment I could almost pretend I was flying. Was I really falling, or was I perhaps flying?
That was the first time in a series of times where I found myself wanting the moment to last just a second longer. From hiking Satulah mountain and learning about the Whiteside Plutons, to seeing all of the natural beauty the Great Smokies have to offer like the Red-Cheeked salamander near Kuwohi (formerly known as Clingman’s Dome). I am grateful to have been able to spend the semester with so many wonderful people in such a wonderful place.
Before
There were certainly some low points as well. If I may, remind you of my cliff-jumping escapade. Mere minutes before, I had managed to injure myself. As I was climbing to the height of the rock, my anticipation climbed as well. The landscape was rather muddy from previous rainfall events and the neighboring pool of water. As I rounded the corner, and stepped my bare foot on the rock 20 feet above ground, I slipped. Terror and shock evoked a scream from my lips. I flailed reaching for my friend's hand. Wait, I realized. I wasn’t falling anymore. And I felt fine, other than a little bit of adrenaline coursing through my veins. I looked down; I had landed in a small crevice of knarled roots and solid dirt five feet down. My mud-caked feet had resulted in my untimely fall. Just a couple inches to the right and I really would’ve fallen 20 feet down. My friend grabbed my hand and pulled me back up.
“Do you want to turn back?” She asked me, worried.
“I’d rather jump than turn back at this point,” I replied, determined.
I continued along the rock, slowly but surely.
It was at this point I felt a stinging pain coming from my foot. I looked down to see red and brown of different textures all mixed together. I’m bleeding. Suddenly I couldn’t wait to get in the water. I looked ahead to see four people in front of me. I was dying to get in the water so I could wash out the dirt from my wound. Three people. I realize my friend doesn’t realize I’ve injured myself so I decide to tell her. Two people. The paranoia is creeping up and I swear I can feel an infection spreading. One person. I can’t believe I’m not in the water yet. Then, finally, the moment arrives.
After
My head bobs up out of the water and I raise my arms up in joy. It’s not every day you cliff jump for the first time, and somehow manage to injure yourself in the process. And yet, this did not deter me.
I quickly swim over to a nearby rock to examine the injury. Upon first glance, it looks pretty deep, but then as I rinse it, it shallows out. I suppose I will just have to see how it pans out.
I sit with gauze and band-aids a week later attemping to care for myself.
Two weeks pass, then three.
By the time it’s been a month, I am surprised that there is still an open wound at all.
I had imagined this would pass fast and heal quickly. I, incorrectly, assumed that my body would heal fast. I was wrong. It was frustrating at times, but mostly an inconvenience. I was slow walking to class. I had to spend most of my time indoors despite that being the best weather of the year. But still, I was determined to make the most out of my time here. I took extra shifts at my job since I could stand just fine. I spent many hours in the lab collecting or processing data. In the evenings, I sat in the kitchen and enjoyed good foods and good laughs. Nights were often filled with various card games. And before I knew it, the day of the 11 mile hike arrived.
Having been heavily favoring one side, I had temporarily changed the way I walked and was nervous to put my full weight on it. I must admit, it is terrifying to do anything the first time. After taking the first step, the second step is not so bad, and it only gets better from there. Although I remained keenly aware of it, the fear had subsided, giving way to excitement at the beauty of the world around me.
There was no clear end point. I didn’t wake up one day suddenly being not injured. And it did leave a scar. But I wouldn’t take back anything. I proved something to myself that day–that I can do more than I think I can and that if I can just be brave, things will work out. And I think it was a reminder that there is something to take away from every experience. Some might see my injury as a setback, but I see it as a stepping stone on my path of life.
-GM
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