This is a childhood place, a place I go in my dreams to hear, to feel, to taste and to touch the carefree person I was back then. When I close my eyes it takes me back, back to when I no longer fear the swaying below my feet. To when my nerves no longer matter as the rest of the world falls away and the beauty that surrounds me overwhelms my senses and refuses to be ignored.
At first I hear only the crash, the crash of gallon upon gallon of water falling until there is nowhere else to go, falling to the end of the Earth. As I linger I hear each individual droplet scream as they soar to the ground and merge into one, finally giving into gravity. The water crashes and rolls and continues the cycle again and again.
The longer I stand, the more I notice the fine mist that now coats my face is accumulating in my hair and dampening my clothes. I feel the wind blowing through my hair as the sun beats down on an unusually warm spring day for Oregon. Despite the warm day, the chill of the water begins to seep through and yet I still stand there absorbing the wonder of what is before me.
My mouth slips open as I hear my name, yet I don’t answer. For just one minute longer I want to stay in this place, utterly alone and at peace. The fresh water from the mist reaches my tongue, the taste isn’t unpleasant; in fact, it tastes as it sounds, looks and feels. It tastes like pure simple beauty.
Opening my eyes I gaze on a wondrous sight. I can see the glistening rocks that cause the distant crash from below. I know the jagged edges would cut like a knife yet I don’t worry. I am in a safe place and my childish heart cannot fear the beauty. The water moves at speeds unknown; at times it seems that they are speeding by like life, ever changing and passing before I blink and then my perspective flips and they are paused, afloat in midair, suspended until my concentration is broken and once again they zoom by. Until this sight I had only thought of water as blue as the ocean or clear as a glass but what was before me was an angelic white mixed into a deep indigo and calming sky blue. As it crashed the water twisted into foam, looking as if I could just reach down and plunge my hand into soapy bathwater. I know this is not true yet it doesn’t distract from the wonder that the vision holds. Nothing I see could be any more perfect for it was designed as so.
I cannot force myself to leave the magic of the cascading water that is essential to my life; despite no longer having the pulsing water before me I can simply close my eyes and go back, back to the days of simplicity, of childhood. The days filled with the echo of water hitting the vast rocks below only to return and tell me hello once more.
