freefalling

when you are young there are many things that you are taught that you do not do. my mom was particularly adamant about three things: never eat lying down, never run with a lollypop in your mouth, and stay the hell out of the way when hot water is coming though. i'm sure your family had its own set of things you certainly musn't do- lick an icy pole in winter perhaps. run with scissors. try to drown your neighbour caitlin under the kitchen sink. you know, things like that. and i'm sure if it had come up, there would have been a rule that went something like this: if someone asks you to willingly climb into a tiny plane, strap yourself to a complete stranger, fly to 14, 000 feet and then jump out of said plane, you do not do it.

and you certainly do not pay to do.

well, call me a renegade, call me a rule-breaker, but i simply couldn't come to cairns in northern queensland and keep both feet on the ground for the entirety of my visit. so i shelled out the cash and crossed my fingers. i boarded a bus with a crew of, and i use this term very loosely, professionals and we drove the hour out of the city to the drop zone. i pulled on the red and yellow jumpsuit pants that i can assure you are not going to be gracing the pages of men's vogue anytime soon. and i stepped into a plane about the size of a mini-fridge. and i checked to see if my fingers were still crossed. they were.

up we climbed, like charlie in his great glass elevator, up, up, and away until the farmland below was nothing but verdant patchwork with red dirt stitching. up higher until we were north of the clouds, looking down at a bona fide rainbow painted across the white popcorn floor of the heavens. up higher and higher until we couldn't go any higher and the first jump instructor pried open the plexiglass door. the cold air of 14, 000 feet above earth hit me like a wall. a very cold wall. a very cold, very high up wall. fingers? still crossed.

no time to think though, and before i could pause to feel nervous i was out the door and into the air. into the sky, freefalling for sixty seconds of fully realized elation. i screamed because i couldn't not scream. i laughed because i was flying. i was flying! i tend not to use exclamation marks, but this was an exclamation mark sixty seconds. i could feel the wind tugging at the skin of my face, the pressure of my descent unfolding my arms into a wide open embrace, hugging madly at the air as it rushed past me. and then the startling calm of the air under the open parachute, calm and cavernous. calm, but in mid-air. unreal.

i steered my red parachute towards the ground, turning in corkscrews and wide wheels, laughing with my whole body, wanting to stay up in the air for just one more minute. but feet belong on the ground and i made my way back to the planet. i landed on my feet. i landed smiling.

and somewhere along the line, i had uncrossed my fingers.