Friday, July 29, 2005


One day in November of 1994, I was climbing mountains in Colorado with a large group of friends. We all went to college together, and while out on break, we all took a trip to the mountains. We would drive around until we saw one we liked, then stop the cars (there were about 12 of us, three different cars), and go up up up. On the last day of our adventures, my friend Jennifer and I were lagging behind the rest of the group. We stopped to rest for a while, and eventually the others were far out of our sight. When we finally started to climb again, I went first. Following the path our friends before us took, I led the way up a rather steep rock. I had a foothold in one little nook, my other foot in yet another. I was streched completely out, when somehow I slipped. This moment seemed to go on forever. I was falling, and we were God knows how high up already. I knew I was about to become a pile of broken bones and blood. It was a surreal moment to say the least. Jennifer was directly behind me. She reached out and grabbed me, pinning me with her body. She was below me a bit, on a piece of ground that was somewhat flat, Somehow, she managed to help me down. We sat down and were speechless for quite sometime. We smoked a cigarette and made our way to the cars where we waited for our friends.

About a year ago, Jennifer succeeded, after several attempts, to take her own life. The person who SAVED my life, ten years later took her own. I was, and still am, very shaken by this. Not knowing what to say, I spoke instead by painting a picture. This is taken from a photograph of Jennifer and I, probably about 6 months to a year after the mountain-climbing incident. (I'm the one with the short hair). The last time I saw jennifer was in New Orleans, 8 years ago. She was pregnant with her second child. (she had the first when she was 15, so he would be 16 by now). I wish I could have reminded her of what she had done for me. The only reason I'm here right now is because she held onto me and kept me from tumbling down the side of a mountain. Thank you Jennifer, wherever you are.

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