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NATURE | HEALING
Exploits of a Waterfall Stalker
A pic is nice, but come hear the roar, feel the mist, smell the air
I owe my late-bloomer wanderlust to one thing and one thing alone — the sight of a waterfall. Amazingly, it was just the photo of a waterfall.
Standing in line at my least-favorite grocery store, I was zoned out. Numb. Scanners echoing, beep, beep, beep. Going through the motions of my mundane life, disgruntled and discontent. Resigned.
In my early 30s, in that unending cycle. Work, pay bills, scrape by, have none left over, on to another month. I’d never been overseas. Hell, who had time for even domestic road trips or vacations? Traveling was for the rich, for the “normal-job” people. Besides, journeys might distract from my showbiz priorities. Oh the lies we tell ourselves to remain stationary.
Then, I saw it.
It glimmered. It sang to me. Hovering over the overpriced candy and impulse buys, a copy of Sunset magazine featured an impossibly beautiful sight — a two-tiered waterfall surrounded by impossible greenery and a pedestrian bridge spanning the space above.
It was enough to break the spell, to bring me out of my haze, and a crystal-clear thought shot across my cranium like a bottle rocket —
