It was my second time trying to get to the bottom of Brandywine Falls. This time, the snow had disappeared and I had less than one week left in Vancouver. This was going to be my last attempt.
Thirty minutes later, we climbed over large rocks on a steep cliff. They were the same rocks that footsteps had disappeared into in February. The same rocks that were covered in snow and seemed too dangerous to be walking on. The same steep cliff that I thought had to be the wrong way down.
I stood there drenched by the mist, but feeling so grateful that I finally made it. In that moment, I was reminded of how much I’d miss Vancouver, a place I’ve always wanted to leave. A place I’ve called home almost all my life.