The Cliff
The Cliff
There once was a girl, she was nineteen. A tall, lanky girl with long, black hair, a sweetheart face and a set of dark, melted chocolate like eyes. Her name was Rose.
Rose had a grandmother who loved her like no one else and was the only one who took care of her. Helen, her grandmother, had taken her in when she was just a baby and through the years they leaned on each other. After Rose had turned sixteen Helen got very ill and didn't seem to get better. Rose helped her grandmother as she got more and more frail over the years, her body weakening to the point where she was in a wheelchair.
Everyday Rose and Helen would go to a certain cliff, a cliff that overlooked the ocean. The granddaughter and grandmother would go and watch the sunrise and sunset. They would sit for hours, watching the water lap at the rocks and the seagulls dip low, getting their fill of fish.
One day Helen didn't wake up that morning and was laid to rest a few days later. Rose mourned for days, never leaving her room. She would sit and look longingly at the chair with wheels that her grandmother had been trapped in. The chair that Rose would push her grandmother in, to their cliff everyday.
A week after Helen had died, Rose’s friends, who were very concerned about her, pushed her out the door. They told her to go do something.
“Go to cliff or just take a walk” They said. One friend recommended she go to the cliff.
“It might be what you need. That was a special place for you and Helen, maybe it will help you feel close to her.” She urged.
Rose relented and went to the cliff. There she stood for hours, doing what she used to do with Helen; watching the seagulls, watching the water lap at the rocks, watching the sunset ( for the sun had already risen when she arrived). But all these things didn’t help. It left a bigger hole in her heart. It made her sorrow and longing for her grandmother worse.
Rose went home and back to her room, mourning. Her friends were left to figure out how to help their sad friend, to pull her out of this mood she had fallen into. They decided to try again at getting her outside and into fresh air.
This time Rose didn’t relent, she argued. She said that it was lonely out there and that it made her feel more lonely without her grandmother. Rose’s friends thought about what she said and then gave her an idea. Her friends told her to take the wheel chair with her, that maybe it would help fill the emptiness beside her when she sat on the cliff.
Rose took this to heart and tried. She stood up, wrapped a cloak about her, took the handles in her hands and started to push the chair. She pushed it out the door and up the trail to the cliff. When she neared the cliff, she slowed her pace.
Rose walked slowly, reverently, up to the top of the cliff. The hard wind blowing her hair, it was going to storm soon. Black, dangerous clouds loomed on the horizon. It was going to be a very dangerous storm.
Rose stood there holding onto the wheelchair, watching the waves now crashing onto the rocks below. For a moment it thrilled her, for her grandmother and her would come and watch storms blowing in if they weren’t really bad. Her thrill died down for she remembered her grandmother wasn’t here and couldn’t see it with her.
Then, as if like lightning, Rose remembered something her grandmother told her. The day Helen had taken her in, she had told Rose that her parents were watching over her. Maybe her grandmother was watching over her too. She also remembered her grandmother telling her about God and how he was always there, watching over them.
Maybe all of them: God, her parents and her grandmother. Maybe they were there right now, watching the storm with her. Watching as it turned a calm, peaceful sea into a terrifying monster. Right then, as the storm raged around her. She felt at peace.
Rose looked down at the chair. A small smile came upon her face as she dropped her hands from the handles and walked slowly to the side of the chair. She sat at the side of the chair like she would if her grandmother were in it right then. Rose raised her head to the darkening, stormy sky and said, “isn’t beautiful?”
Rose had a grandmother who loved her like no one else and was the only one who took care of her. Helen, her grandmother, had taken her in when she was just a baby and through the years they leaned on each other. After Rose had turned sixteen Helen got very ill and didn't seem to get better. Rose helped her grandmother as she got more and more frail over the years, her body weakening to the point where she was in a wheelchair.
Everyday Rose and Helen would go to a certain cliff, a cliff that overlooked the ocean. The granddaughter and grandmother would go and watch the sunrise and sunset. They would sit for hours, watching the water lap at the rocks and the seagulls dip low, getting their fill of fish.
One day Helen didn't wake up that morning and was laid to rest a few days later. Rose mourned for days, never leaving her room. She would sit and look longingly at the chair with wheels that her grandmother had been trapped in. The chair that Rose would push her grandmother in, to their cliff everyday.
A week after Helen had died, Rose’s friends, who were very concerned about her, pushed her out the door. They told her to go do something.
“Go to cliff or just take a walk” They said. One friend recommended she go to the cliff.
“It might be what you need. That was a special place for you and Helen, maybe it will help you feel close to her.” She urged.
Rose relented and went to the cliff. There she stood for hours, doing what she used to do with Helen; watching the seagulls, watching the water lap at the rocks, watching the sunset ( for the sun had already risen when she arrived). But all these things didn’t help. It left a bigger hole in her heart. It made her sorrow and longing for her grandmother worse.
Rose went home and back to her room, mourning. Her friends were left to figure out how to help their sad friend, to pull her out of this mood she had fallen into. They decided to try again at getting her outside and into fresh air.
This time Rose didn’t relent, she argued. She said that it was lonely out there and that it made her feel more lonely without her grandmother. Rose’s friends thought about what she said and then gave her an idea. Her friends told her to take the wheel chair with her, that maybe it would help fill the emptiness beside her when she sat on the cliff.
Rose took this to heart and tried. She stood up, wrapped a cloak about her, took the handles in her hands and started to push the chair. She pushed it out the door and up the trail to the cliff. When she neared the cliff, she slowed her pace.
Rose walked slowly, reverently, up to the top of the cliff. The hard wind blowing her hair, it was going to storm soon. Black, dangerous clouds loomed on the horizon. It was going to be a very dangerous storm.
Rose stood there holding onto the wheelchair, watching the waves now crashing onto the rocks below. For a moment it thrilled her, for her grandmother and her would come and watch storms blowing in if they weren’t really bad. Her thrill died down for she remembered her grandmother wasn’t here and couldn’t see it with her.
Then, as if like lightning, Rose remembered something her grandmother told her. The day Helen had taken her in, she had told Rose that her parents were watching over her. Maybe her grandmother was watching over her too. She also remembered her grandmother telling her about God and how he was always there, watching over them.
Maybe all of them: God, her parents and her grandmother. Maybe they were there right now, watching the storm with her. Watching as it turned a calm, peaceful sea into a terrifying monster. Right then, as the storm raged around her. She felt at peace.
Rose looked down at the chair. A small smile came upon her face as she dropped her hands from the handles and walked slowly to the side of the chair. She sat at the side of the chair like she would if her grandmother were in it right then. Rose raised her head to the darkening, stormy sky and said, “isn’t beautiful?”