Frankly Told: A Lonely Top
“Hey!,” she called out. “Where d’you go?”
He stood there, his body tightly hugged by the layers of clothing. It was a view to gawk at without so much as a ‘wow’ and he stood in silence. His legs were burning in spite of the cold and his hands had gone numb around the hiking sticks.
“Hey!” she yelled.
“Yeah,” he came to. “Sorry, it’s just this view is breathtaking.”
“Yeah?” she agreed. “It’s a wonder it feels so hidden when you are on the ground, no?”
“Yeah,” was all he could let out.
“Almost makes you sober up to how small you are in this world, huh?” she piped up again after a beat of silence.
He responded with a shrug and she took the message. Silence came and took shelter between the two of them with only the ice-cold wind occasionally blowing between them causing shivers even though only their faces were showing; they were so covered up.
“How are you feeling?” a man’s voice broke the silence.
“I must say,” she quipped up immediately. “I feel tired but I am in such awe. It was so worth the climb.”
“Ah yes,” the man said. “I have done this climb many times over but it never ceases to amaze me with how beautiful it is.”
“What about you?” He was asked.
He sighed.
“I’ll be honest,” he started. “It is a beautiful view. It’s a wonder to see it from this high and realize that is where we walk every day without noticing.”
“But?” she jumped in.
“But it makes me sad,” he said curtly.
“Sad?” the man exhaled. “Why?”
“I guess because I must admit I am a little underwhelmed,” he explained. “At least in feeling.”
“Go on,” the man pushed.
“You know, they always speak so highly about this summit like it is a great milestone in one’s life and I will say this, I rode the wave of that expectation and I think I carried it with me onto this expedition,” he sighed. “Not to take anything away from this because it is amazing.”
He watched the words pour out of his mouth and seem to spit in the face of the other two. Her facial expression morphed from curious to neutral to concerned. The man just stood there with this look of contempt on his face. In that moment, somehow he wished he could take back what he had said.
“I’m sorry,” he backtracked. “It feels like I am at the top of the world.”
The man walked up to him, his footsteps crunching the snow softly. He placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head with a smile on his face.
“No need for sorry, young man,” the man said with an almost teasing tone. “I think I see what this is.”
“Oh, really?” he asked.
“Yes,” the man said. “I can say that I was in your shoes for so long, I suppose that is why as of now I am almost celebrating my hundredth climb of this mountain.”
He looked at him in bewilderment. How can someone do this so many times? He thought. Why would you torture yourself? At some point, it must begin to feel useless or the least bit repetitive.
“You cannot keep chasing this high of external validation. It almost gets toxic to oneself,” the man cautioned. “If ever I wished for something it would be the ability to see this around the second or third climb. I’m sure your wife here…”
“Oh, we are not married,” she quipped.
“Colleagues,” he said in agreement gesturing to the both of them.
“Ah,” the old man raised his arms. “My bad, you make a cute couple.”
They both laughed nervously. The old man looked at the both of them curiously but said no more.
“Anyway,” he went on. “You were saying something.”
“Ah, that point is gone,” the man said. “You know old age.”
“Okay, then tell me this,” he flipped the conversation. “What made you keep going back to climb the mountain after those many times? I mean just hearing it seems to me like it is something that would get boring fast. What new thing were you looking for?”
“Mh, well the validation of being the one to do it the most,” the old man puffed his chest. “Along the way, I found myself head-hunted for a post in the hiking company. I considered it and since then I have been tied here. I have found other ways, I have tried different areas but I come back here every time.”
“So what is the point?” he asked indifferently. “You climb ten times, twenty, fifty or one hundred, then what?”
“Then it stops being about the number of times I do it,” the man answered sharply. “I’ve seen many faces like yours. I have met many with the same motivations as you. Not realising that it is not about the summit but this is a trek that once you embark on it is not something you can return to the same way you are.”
“Hmm,” he was silenced.
“I like to say think about what got you here,” the man prodded. “If you think about it and your answer is some cliche like the hype that people give you for it, I beg of you, think again.”
“I mean what else could there be?” he asked flatly.
The old man looked at him blankly. A pair of younger hikers walked past the trio in high spirits. One of them mentioned loudly, boasting about how they took less time to climb that time as opposed to the first time. It triggered a thought and he looked around at the others that shared the summit at that time.
His eyes settled on a lonesome man some paces from him. The man was standing with his hands in his pockets and his face wore this unexplainable emptiness. He felt drawn, something inside him whispered an answer.
“The summit is supposed to be a place of celebration, right?” he asked. “Why does it seem so isolating?”
“If you are seeking some external achievement from it,” the old man answered. “It can be a very lonely top.”
