Man on a Cliff

A lone man stands at the edge of the cliff, rocks descending for hundreds of feet below. Water laps against the stone at the bottom, eating away at years of compressed minerals. The sky stays overcast with marshmallow clouds; the green hills and grey, rocky cliffs stretched for miles. The man wore a beige cotton button-up tucked into khaki pants with suspenders over his shoulders and worn brown loafers. A Sunday evening, the church let out.

His skin showed signs of age and hard work; tanned from a life in the sun, wrinkled from the passage of time and stress. Once a full head of dark brunette hair, grey took its place. As he stood and watched the waves attempt to conquer the stone they washed over, his life played like a movie in his mind.

As a child, he spent his days plowing his family's fields, seeding, watering, and harvesting when the time came. His father impressed upon him the necessity of hard work as his mother reminded him to lead a balanced life: "Work is important but putting food on the table doesn't matter much if there's no one to share it with." 

He put in work during the day but always made it back home for dinner. On Sundays, he laid down his tools and kneeled with his town, thanking the Lord for letting crops grow in the tough ground, bringing rain, and good harvests.

His mother continued to remind him that there's more to life than the field and the crops as he grew. At 16, when the town's annual Harvest Festival came as the trees shed their leaves and the days got shorter, he asked the farmer's daughter down the road, Samantha, to accompany him. Among hayrides and a myriad of pies, he developed the same look in his eyes as his parents did when he caught them in the kitchen, his father's chin resting on his mother's shoulder and his arms around her waist while she worked. 

Soon, he found himself at her father's table for dinner, discussing his plans for the future. He and his father made a deal for when he turns 18; he gets 50 of his father's 500 acres to begin on his own. When his father passes, the full 500 would go to him. The girl's father proceeded to quiz him on what crops he would grow, how he tended to them, where he plans to sell, and every detail of the profession to ensure he knows how to survive. Her father ran out of questions and stood convinced, so he approved.

Two years passed, and on his 18th birthday, his father fulfilled his end of the bargain. With his 50 acres, he made enough on his first harvest to build a small one-bedroom house on the land and one other important thing. The house remained still in the works when the Harvest Festival came around that year, but that didn't stop him from dropping to one knee in front of the town after he helped her down from the hayride and asking her to spend the rest of their lives together. 

That spring at the cliffs on the edge of town, tears ran down his cheeks as her father walked her down the aisle towards him. Surrounded by everyone they held dear, they promised to love each other until the end of time. After the ceremony, he drove her to his 50 acres and walked her through the home he built for them.

In the years to come, she blessed him with three more mouths to feed; Jonathan, Michael, and Nicholas. The man’s 50 acres doubled with each child until the man and his father concluded that it was time for the elder to only farm enough to feed himself and the boy's mother. The house expanded after each harvest until all were comfortable with each child in their own bedroom, and then his farm followed. It was always family first.

By the time of his first son Jonathan’s 18th birthday, the man found himself able to fulfill the same deal his father had, 50 acres to start. Jonathan followed in his father’s footsteps, and a year later began life as a married man. The other two sons, Michael and Nicholas, reached 18 in the next few years and the 50-acre deal stood fulfilled with each of them.

The year his youngest son Nicholas turned 18, his seeds didn't respond to the water they were given. His harvest barely filled his table at Farmer’s Markets. His wife's health began to decline. She forgot the little things, at first, like where she left her reading glasses or to buy milk when she went into town. Then she began to forget how to get to town and their sons' names. There would be days that she was alert and could make inside jokes and references, while other days Samantha was confused and delirious. Over time, he lost the thing he held most dear, and he remembered what his mother had always told him. "Work is important but putting food on the table doesn't matter much if there's no one to share it with." 

He divided his farm among his sons, keeping enough to feed himself and her, and devoted himself to taking care of her. His sons helped their parents as much as they could. The years passed and their children had families of their own; he and his wife turned grey and the last of his land was divided until none was left for him to tend and the children brought them their daily meals. 

When the day came that his wife passed, the funeral was held at the same church they attended every week, and the whole town came out. Jonathan organized the service, making sure to get her favorite flowers and hymns included. All three sons stood at the pulpit and testified to their mother's love, sharing memories, laughter, and tears. The man could say no words nor cry any tears, for though her physical form was now being buried in the ground, he had lost her long ago in bits and pieces.

After the funeral, the man found himself back at the cliffs where they first made their promise to each other, watching the waves wash over the stones just as they had then. There he allowed himself to cry, and there he found himself talking to her, telling her about their children and grandchildren, every day until his last.