Platforms

I remember when I was young and innocent, standing at the edge of a cliff, looking over at the unending path of platforms, wondering what would lie on the final platform. I remember taking the first leap, unsure that I would even make it. But I did. Landing on the first platform gave me a feeling of exhilaration, the adrenaline coursing through my blood. I didn't pause as I jumped onto the next one, and the one after that, and the one after that. I only paused when the sun began to set and I could no longer see the platforms in front of me. I curled up on the platform I was on and fell asleep. When I woke up, the cycle began again. Jumping from platform to platform, the feeling of excitement going through me. But every time I made the jump, the excitement dulled. As I grew, so too did my disappointment. The leaps became jumps, the jumps became hops, and the hops became steps. Soon, I could easily walk from one to another, and it was no longer fun. As a teenager, I became all too self-aware of the height. Thoughts flooded into my mind. What if I never made the next jump? It became harder and harder to do so. Sometimes I would leap for hours on end, and some days I could barely manage one. And then one day, at the age of 18, I finally did something new. I looked down. From beneath me, there was another set of platforms, exactly the same as this one. In the distance I saw a man, much older then me, jumping across the platforms with ease, a smile on his face as he skipped across in a childlike wonder, almost as if the excitement of jumping had never worn away. I picked up a stone from my platform and threw it down, where it landed directly in front of the man. He paused in his jumps and looked up. He saw me, leaning cautiously over the edge, my hair dangling over the sides and he waved up at me happily. I wanted to yell down to him, ask him how he was so full of life, but I knew no sound would reach him. He jumped to the platform in front of him, and beckoned me to follow. I did so, leaping across to the next one. He smiled and kept going, and I kept following in his footsteps. Eventually, it became something of a race, the two of us jumping from platform to platform. One day, I managed to get ahead of him. I looked back to smile, when all of a sudden I felt the world fall. I closed my eyes, until I felt myself hit the ground. I heard a sound from behind me, footsteps on rocks, and then I saw him, the man I had been racing. He offered me his hand, and helped me stand. The two of us, on one platform. He smiled at me, offering me his hand, and I took it. I cannot remember how many years we hopped side by side, years full of laughter and happiness. Years of me finding my motivation, and concerning my fears, while he cheered me on proudly. One day we came across a cliff— one that looked exactly like my childhood. The platforms went on, swerving left and continuing forward, but there was finally land, finally the other side. The leap was long, and I could sea the ocean below me, crashing loudly against the rocks. My friend went first, jumping across the platform and onto the cliff. He turned and looked at me, and for the first time, I saw sadness in his eyes. I understood why. I looked down—at the ocean before me, and decided it was too much. I couldn't make the jump. Not yet. He smiled at me as I turned away, and leaped onto the next platform. When I looked back, the cliff was gone. I had grown with my friend, jumping by his side as I matured, facing the troubles together. The platform away looked more daunting than it ever had, yet still, I leaped. Within my heart I could feel it. The joy, the excitement, the adrenaline. I carried on, not stopping for a second. Jumping and leaping and skipping across the platforms. And then one day, I was stopped in my path. A rock was dropped right in front of me. Curiously, I looked up, and saw a boy looking at me. There was tiredness in his eyes, one I recognized from long ago. I smiled at him, jumping over to the platform in front of me, and gestured for him to follow. I saw him take a hesitant step, and leap.