Blue Marker Castles

I’ve always had the sneaking suspicion I’d never grow old. I mean, when I was younger, I scribbled plans in a notebook. Drew clumsy castles with blue marker and proclaimed loudly that I’d own one one day. But when you’re a kid, “old”’s just around your twenties, miles away from that wooden gym floor and your friends sitting criss-cross applesauce next to you. Now I’ve got my license - probably a prerequisite for castle ownership - and I’ve driven those miles to that point just to find it’s a cliff edge. Every version of me - 8, 12, 16 - echoes in the sigh of relief I breathe when I see the drop-off ahead. I used to be so scared of heights, thoughts of rock-climbing would send my hands tingling and my knees to weakening. But this yawning chasm greets me like an old friend. I've been here time and time again, if only in imagination. The wind blows softly at my back, and if I close my eyes and follow its whims, maybe my movements won’t be entirely my own. Maybe I’ll have reason to fall. The momentum conservation principle states that when objects interact, the object pushed gains momentum from that with which it collides. Sure, the wind’s not solid, but maybe they’ll overlook that fact. I’m sure doing my best.