The House at the Base of a CaveBy Rachel Daley
I am the house at the base of a cave. Ahead of me is a rugged shoreline with an endless horizon. When the water is shining, I feel an ineffable eagerness to unearth myself from this ground. But from somewhere behind me, a rock tumbles gracelessly down the cliffside. I shiver.
That cave again.
Towering over me, but just out of sight. Always there, reminding me that all is not well. That the cobalt and cloudless skies of today are likely to devolve into the gray and groaning skies of tomorrow. That I am not free. I am just a house at the base of a cave. Stuck where I am. Fixed to this faulty foundation. Adding nothing to this luscious landscape. In fact, subtracting. Blocking. Polluting.
A wave crashes. A child laughs at the water’s edge. Now, the light reflecting off the rhythmic, rushing water comes back into focus. The cave fades quietly into the background. I can breathe again. For how long, I'm not sure. But for this moment, I feel like more than a house at the base of a cave.