Lesson 14 Take one step, one more step

Lesson 14 Take one step, one more step

Morton Hunt

It was in Philadelphia, on a sweltering July day—and 56 years later, I can still feel the scorching heat of that year. The five boys I was with were tired of playing marbles and burning holes in dry leaves with lenses and were looking for other fun things.

Freckled little Ned said, "Hey! I got an idea. We haven't climbed a cliff in a long time. ”

"Let's go!" Someone chimed in. Then they set off, panting and trotting all the way, like a pack of lost puppies.

I hesitated. I aspire to be as brave and active as they are, but for the past eight years I have spent most of my time as a sick and frail child and taken my mother's warning to heart – I am not as strong as other children and cannot take risks.

"Come on!" Jerry yelled at me – he was my best friend. "Just because you were sick in the past, you have to be a coward? It doesn't make sense. "I'm coming!" I shouted and ran after them.

We walked through the park, into the woods, and ended up in a clearing. On the far other side, there is a cliff that rises abruptly in the rock like an almost vertical wall, surrounded on all sides by dirt slopes, on which jagged groves and ailanthus saplings grow. It's only about 60 feet from the messy rocks at the bottom to the edge of the turf at the top, but for me it's the embodiment of the forbidden and impossible.

One by one, the other children climbed up, finding places to let go of their hands and feet on the protruding rocks and soil layers. I hesitated until the other children had climbed on it, and then I started climbing up sweaty and shaky. My hands were here, my feet were there, my heart was pounding in my thin chest, and I tried to climb up.

At some point, I glanced back and looked down, and then I was terrified: the ground under the cliff looked very distant; Just one slide and I would fall, hit a cliff, and then fall onto a rock and smash.

But the boys had climbed to a rock ridge two-thirds of the way from the top of the cliff, which was about five or six feet deep and 15 feet long. I tried to crawl towards them. I crawled slowly, as close to the inside as I could, gripping the rock's surface tightly. The sight of the other children standing near the edge made me sick to my stomach and I secretly grabbed the rocks behind me.

After a few minutes, they began to climb on.

"Hey, wait for me." I said in a hoarse voice.

"Goodbye! Look at you like a little man in a burlesque. One of them said, and the others laughed.

"But I can't... I..." This sentence stimulated them, and they began to laugh at me, boo, and continue climbing up so that they could make a detour home from the top of the cliff. They stared down at me before they left.

Ned scoffed, "You can stay if you want." ”

"It's up to you." Jerry looked worried, but ended up walking away with the other kids.

I looked down and felt dizzy; A nameless force seemed to be forcing me to fall. I was clinging to a rock and felt the world spinning. I wanted to turn around and go back, but knew I definitely wouldn't go back. It's too far and too dangerous; Halfway through the cliff, I would gradually feel weak and weak, then let go, fall and die. But the road to the top looked worse – higher, steeper, more unpredictable, and I certainly couldn't get up. I heard someone crying and moaning; I wanted to know who that was, and finally realized it was me.

Time is slowly passing. The shadows were slowly lengthening, the sun was no longer under the low treetops in the west, and night began to fall. There was silence all around, I was lying on the rocks, my expression was in a trance, fear and fatigue had numbed me, I didn't move, I couldn't even think about how to go down and get home safely.

In twilight, the first stars appear in the sky, and the ground below the cliffs begins to blur. However, there was a flashlight flashing in the woods, and then I heard Jerry and Dad shouting. Father! But what can he do? He was a stout middle-aged man, and he couldn't climb up. Even if he climbs up, what can he do?

Dad stood far away at the foot of the cliff so he could see me, and he shone a flashlight at me and shouted, "Now, come down." He said in a very normal, comforting tone, "It's time for dinner."

"I can't! I'll fall! I'm going to fall to my death!" I cried.

"You can climb up, you can come down, and I will illuminate you."

"No, I can't! Too far away, too difficult! I can't do it!" I roared.

"Listen to me," Dad continued, "don't think about how far or how difficult it is, all you need to think about is taking a small step. You can do this. Look at the place where the flashlight is pointing. Did you see that stone?" The pillar of light swam away, pointing to a protruding stone beneath the ridge. "See?" He asked aloud.

I moved slowly. "See." I answered.

"Okay, now turn around and step on the stone with your left foot. That's what you do. It's a little below you. You can do it. Don't worry about what's next, don't look down, take the first step first. Believe me. ”

It looks like I can do it. I moved backwards, carefully feeling the rock with my left foot, and found it. "Good." Dad shouted, "Now, a little down to the right, there's another place to stay, just a few inches away." Move your right foot and slowly go down. That's what you do. Just think about the next step, don't think about anything else. "I did." Okay, now let go of your left hand, and then grab the little trunk behind you, right on the side, look at where my flashlight shines, and that's what you're going to do. "Once again, I did.

In this way, one step at a time, one place at a time, climbing down as he said, Dad emphasized that every time I only need to do a simple movement, never giving me a chance to stop and think that the road below is still very long, he keeps telling me that I can do what I have to do next.

Suddenly, I took the last step down, stepped on the messy rock at the bottom, threw myself into Dad's strong arms, sobbed, and surprisingly, I had a huge sense of accomplishment and something like pride.

Since then, there have been many moments in my life when faced with an unattainable goal, or a daunting situation, when I feel panicked—because I recall that lesson from a cliff long ago. I remind myself not to look at the distant rocks below, but to pay attention to the relatively easy and easy first small steps, taking small steps, taking small steps, and experiencing the sense of accomplishment that each step brings until I have reached my goal. At this time, looking back, you will be surprised and proud of the long road you have traveled.