The Voices

When my family gets together, the voices get loud. We laugh. We sing. We cheer. And then we laugh some more. That's how memories are made, right?

But this story is about other voices that are far more ever-present and niggling.

The voices in my head.

Now wait - before you diagnose - I'm not saying I actually HEAR voices. Except I do, sort of. I'm thinking we all do. Maybe you'd feel better about them if I called them inner voices. That's a much better way to say it. Or conscience. That's sweet. You call them what you want.

The voices guide us. Our little Jimminys telling us to do this or not to do that.

And definitely not to do this.

"Watch and learn!" he yelled.

On this particular family adventure, we decided to go cliff jumping. My first voice yelled, "NOT ME!" It was followed quickly with flashes of me impaled on some buried log jam thirteen feet below water level. I started lecturing, at one of my voice's behest, about the possibilities of peril - just as the above photo was taken.

That's my son, the adventure nut. He and his friends went cliff jumping frequently. He assured me it was safe.

And then he was gone.

I often wonder why I let my young, teenage son convince me that it was safe. I mean, does a young, teenage boy EVER really know the true safety of something? And my boy wasn't known for his sound decisions in those early teen years. (Cardboard wars and friends duct taped in your trunk as a joke are just two examples that come to mind.)

Anyway, he jumped and survived.

So.....

My sister and her family were with us. My nephew was deep in contemplation. My niece was eyeing the water. No one spoke. Their voices were probably rambling.

So.....

I had to step up, right? I had to jump. It seemed somehow CRUCIAL that I jump. Some little voice in my head was yelling, "DO IT!" There was also a little whisper that begged, "Don't do it! You're afraid of heights!"

I am afraid of heights. I can't go up more than two steps of a ladder without embracing it like a long lost lover. It's ridiculous, really. That fear. I can look down from the ladder and see the ground not that far away - and still tremble and shake and hold that ladder with a grip of steel.

That's me - slowly inching my way up to the edge.

Now before I go any further - let me explain one more little voice that was screaming out at me that day. The voice of future me. She shouted, "Do it! I'll need to remember this day! They'll need to remember this day! Do it!"

Future me has a loud, scary voice.

So I jumped.

Me jumping while all my inner voices hold their breath.

I made it. I was so proud of myself, too. The voices in my head were giving each other high fives all around. Future me was thrilled!

Victory splash!

But that's not the big memory I keep from that day.

This is.

My son leading his beloved cousins through some crazy post-cliff-jumping yoga moves.

Cliff jumping never trumps cousin bonding.

I gotta run now. That scary future me voice with dementia fears - well, she just yelled something about backing up all her old photos.