By Rebekah Rademacher
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I remember the sunset. Mostly clear sky, a few clouds. As the sun dips toward the horizon, the sky shifts from a light, bright blue to deep blue, red, orange, and purple.
I’m panting.
There’s that weird tang of metal in the back of
my mouth. I just ran down the wooden stair and sand path from the Turret Arch
to the North Window. I climbed up the red rock, almost slipping on the silty
surface.
I found this perch, a perfect view of the
sunset.
Sunlight reflects off cars sitting in the
parking lot below. People scattered around the trail and window section have
their cameras out, taking photos and videos. I do too.
Trying to capture beauty and hold it in our
hands, even though it will never compare to sitting here.
Here, I can forget that I came on this trip with
my parents.
Here, I can imagine that it’s just me, taking a
long hiking trip. I can pretend that I’m fit enough to hike as many trails as I
want and not as out of shape as I truly am.
Here, I feel like myself.
↣
I didn’t expect Norfolk to be much. When I
thought of the bay, I honestly thought it’d look like the Illinois River. Dirty
and ugly.
Not this.
I touched my toes into the water earlier, down
by the pier. There was sand, gritty bits of rock, and shattered seashells. The
water was cold but decently clean.
I watch the sunset between volleys as I switch
positions on the sand volleyball court. It’s right next to the bay. It gives
the vibes of being at Virginia Beach, but without the crowd. The water at this
time of day is a deep blue color. There’s a strip of dark clouds along the
skyline. The water reflects the bold, bright orange of the fading sun.
My family isn’t here. Here, I’m my own person.
Not older sister. Not the example-setter. Not the minimum wage Panera worker.
Not the ex-Catholic girl.
I’m simply Bekah. Just another person on the
trip trying to figure out what I live for and what I want to do. Who I want to
be.
↣
Sitting on the deck on the top floor of the
house is isolating, but nice. It was storming all day today. The sky is
partially clear now. The wind is strong, carrying the roar of ocean waves and frat
parties to my ears. Strong enough to knock my small cup of lemonade over,
spilling onto the deck’s surface.
Down below, I can hear people shouting at the
TV. I think they’re watching one of the March Madness games. I hear a splash.
Someone just jumped into the pool. Hopefully not off of the first-floor balcony
again. They got in trouble for that the first night we were here.
I have pictures of beautiful sunsets from
throughout the week. Tonight’s is different. Clouds obscure most of it. Just
the smallest bit of orange peeks through.
I’m exhausted. My social battery is critically
low. And this spot on the rooftop is my charger. I don’t think anyone realized
I left. And I like that.
It’s not quiet, but up here, it’s hard to hear
anything but the wind. Up here, I can journal in peace. Have an account of what
this trip was like.
Here, all I have to do is exist.
About the Author
Rebekah graduated from ICC in the Spring of 2023. Her poetry has been published in previous issues of Illinois Central Review. She works part-time as a barista and loves coffee. When she's not writing, she may be found reading, hiking, and crocheting, and probably spoiling her two guinea pigs.