Eternal Mist

I am one among the many that have called the constant blanket of water their home. It is a long stretch that has become my haven. I walk up the familiar parkway as cars blaze on past occasionally kicking dirty water from puddles that have accumulated from the persistent sprinkle from the falls. The steady droplets sent tingles throughout my body causing bumps to dance from my flesh. My already drenched locks drooped across my eyes as images blended in front of me. I follow my path ever so particularly, staring through the cloud on the ground as I step toe to toe. 

I am fascinated by the sounds around me even though this must have been my millionth trip past the falls. So many people flock to the city of Niagara Falls every summer making the hotels burst at their seams. The tourist incessantly bellowing in amazement of the sure intensity of the falls but their giggles and gasps were muted by the sure strength of the roar as the water turned over the rocks below. Most gave little notice to the haziness the falls created and it easily masks me from their view. 

I liked to say that all these visitors are unique and different, but very soon I learned a common theme among them. Of course, since this is the honeymoon capital of the world you had your variety of newlyweds. They basked in the glow of love and hope. Posing for pictures to their matching outfits, capturing their moment in time. It kind of sickens me the way that they make googly eyes at one another, promising each other that they are their one and only. It is amazing how people can lie to one another. It only leads to hurt and heartache when promises are eventually broken. Time though quiet and elusive wears down the foundation of the best-built relationship, trickling down finding weak moments creating cracks. 

There are also families among the waves of day-trippers that pound the pavement looking to impress their young child of the marvel of the cascade water that flows over the edge. Hoping to give their offspring a well-rounded education. Their children cried and whined that their feet were sore. Or complained that they needed a change of clothes because their parents did not know how drenching the spray can become. It would bring them to the breaking point and lose their temper with their kids. Eventually, the would return to the fun of Clifton Hill so they could spend a small fortune on the permanent carnival. 

Lately, there has been a new evolution of the common explorer. Those looking for the perfect moment. Taking great lengths to pose as a photographer takes shot after shot. Cursing when an unpredictable second the moisten haze of the falls ruined the perfect shot. Or the beads would sprinkle on their perfectly applied makeup and hair. The drizzle is not meant for glamour and there are only a few that can pull the wet look off. 

People-watching does not give me any sort of enjoyment but my walk up the parkway it so long I found myself doing this quite a bit as I step toe to toe. The ones I find the most interesting are those individuals were whose tears were masked by the condensation. Among the thousands of visitors, no one ever notices them as no ever notices me. Unlike others, they always seemed somewhat familiar with the mesmerizing effects of the falls. They paced themselves along the thick rail that kept them from tumbling into the abyss below. It was oh so common for them to focus their attention on the film of water that decorated the rail. Taking their fingers the connected the drops, dragging them together until it was too heavy to remain on the curve of the rail. 

There is despair about them that is too familiar, that I strangely am attracted to. I linger along with them as we both immerse ourselves among the thickening cloud. Standing so close, nose to nose as I search within their soul. I am invisible as they self loathed, and ignore their senses. The piercing pounding sound of the rush of the falls. The chilled slick slime was created as the droplets frosted their skin. The taste of the stagnant water as it dripped from their sweaty forehead to their quivering parted lips. The smell of decomposing fish invaded their nose. Their eyes staring right through me blinded by the veil. I knew that feeling, the lack of enjoyment from those sensations; the numbness. 

One person, I observed walked ever so particularly, staring through the clouded sidewalk as they stepped toe to toe. I could see that ever so often they broke through their tears and laugh. Though it seemed it would cause them pain as the grasped their sides and hunched over nearly tumbling over the rail. Always the same pattern; a repeat of the same moment. They always have the same face. A face that I was very familiar with. The same face I saw reflected upon the puddles. It was my face.  

They would stop or rather I would stop. Looking over the expanse of the falls, I closed my eyes as stepped up onto the barrier. I knew at that moment my heart was fluttering as nearly slipped from the wet sleek cobblestone. I was paralyzed as I watch as my fate presented itself before my eyes. I search for my voice to stop it from happening yet again. To tell me “No” this is not my only option. My voice is lost among the clash of the falls. 

I reach up to grab my hand, the yearning that somehow that this time I would be able to stop myself from doing this. Preventing myself from disappearing forever into the shroud of the falls. My finger slips, unable to grasp anything as I toppled down forever, unnoticed by those who walked on by. I once again could not stop myself from becoming one with the mist. 

The chill of the mist sweeps me back and I follow my path again among the crowd. They are enjoying their visit. No one notices me since I am cloaked from their sight, walking ever so carefully among them while I step toe to toe. Forever longing to save myself from the Niagara's eternal mist.