View from the Top

I spend the days spinning and spinning myself around and around in a blur of craziness, tunneling further and further straight down. And, every night I climb back up, straight up. Sometimes I run. Sometimes I only have the energy to walk. I might pass a slow jogger in flip-flops. Or I might get passed by a sprinting whirl of spandex and chiseled muscles lunging and jumping up the hill. We have only sweat, struggle and determination in common.

At the top I stop to take in the view. The air is clear. The breeze is cool. I turn up my music and tune out. Hills doted with houses and high-rises roll along the horizon until they drip into the calm blue of Lake Victoria. I imagine taking a step off the hill. Falling for just a moment, until the wind catches and empowers me. Floating among the eagles and jet planes. Everything below me is small and inconsequential.

Only an orange sky can redirect my wandering mind. I turn, again facing the road I came up. Someplaces paved, always potholed and rough. My sweat stained clothes cling to my aching muscles. I smile at the others just arriving, fresh out of breath. Again tomorrow we’ll each leave our homes, our offices, emerging from behind big heavy gates. Tired and defeated, we’ll head up, straight up. Because the view from the top is always worth the climb.