Age and Adventure
I stop and look at myself in the mirror and am shocked at what I see. I tend to think I am still a man with youth and promise, but as I stare into the wrinkled face of my aged self, I pause; I falter as my figuratively young eyes connect with my factually old ones. My wife beside me pecks me on the cheek as I am leaving the door to venture into the world. I cannot even fathom how she could let me do this to her. With a resigned sigh, I exit my warm home to begin my journey of the unknown.
It’s unbelievably hot out here. What I once thought was a blistering day back in Germany is now the cool day I yearn for. The Savanna grass, tall and hay-like, sways in the almost nonexistent, sweltering breeze. The clouds are covering the sun, but they haven’t the power nor the density to block the rays from penetrating the blanket they’ve cast. There are two tense men on either side of me, skin dark like charcoal and eyes deep and focused like a new age camera. They are staring at a pride of lions not too far from us and I can see they’re concerned. I am not, however. The lions are too preoccupied to care for us.
It’s day five of being confined in this insufferable, dismal hut. The locals tell me, in their most basic form of English, that the storm should be passing within the week, but I’m not too sure. I’ve never, in my entire life, encountered a hurricane quite like this (if one could even call it that). It had come in far quicker than any of us had expected, and has already wiped out the homes closer to the shore. I cannot imagine, even in the deepest expanses of my mind, what it must be like to lose so much in so little time. It’s going to be a long month.
I’ve made a friend. He’s a younger man, but holds a lot of promise to his name. He’s an English boy full of life, excitement, and adventure. Henry Clarke and I met on a cargo flight to the mountains of Switzerland and one thing led to another, and here we are, mapping and exploring the world together. Today we went ice climbing up the side of a mountain, the name of which I am not quite certain. Even as he slipped up and almost fell to his death, he smiled up at me and laughed. I’ve never met a man so full of life and ambition. I just pray to whoever is listening that time and age do not take that precious nature away from him.
It’s ironic that what I love the most in this world is what is going to kill me. I am rushing to write this out before my hand gets too numb, or my brain freezes up in my skull. I can only hope that someone will find this journal and tell my wife, Gerda, that I love her and wish that I could have spent more time with her. I am entrapped in an icy ditch, my leg crushed in the heavy weight. I know I will not survive this, and that I will not get my final rites. I just pray that God has the capacity to relinquish my sins.
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