The
scariest part of sky-diving is the part where you’re sitting on the edge of the
plane, and you’ve just watched the people before you jump out and become tiny
black dots in a matter of seconds.
You’re
sitting on the edge, wondering why you ever thought it would be a good idea to
fly 13000 feet up in the air in a tiny airplane, strap yourself to a stranger
and jump out of the plane.
But once
you’re there, sitting on the edge, you don’t have a choice. The guy you’re
attached to has all the power and when he pushes you out of the plane, the only
thing you can do is try to remember to breathe.
The first
few seconds are absolutely terrifying. There is no up or down. There is no
center of the world. There is only cold air and complete confusion.
The guy you’re
attached to knows what he’s doing though. So even though it feels like an
eternity, you are very quickly horizontal in the air, arms and legs bent in the
correct position.
You are now
rushing toward the ground faster than you could ever have thought possible.
Once you’re
falling like this you can’t scream. The air is rushing toward you in far too
great a speed, forcing into your lungs. So you grit your teeth and do your best
to just breathe. The air burns cold as you breathe in through your nose. You remember
you were supposed to look up and once you do that, the fall doesn’t seem quite
as scary. Keeping your eyes on the horizon you see the mountains. The pretty,
pretty sights. And if it wasn’t for the difficulty of breathing and the rushing
sound of air you might be able to forget that you’re hurling towards the earth
in 60 miles an hour.
You
actually fall for such a long time that it starts to feel a little bit comfortable.
It’s still a chaotic sensation of wind and coldness, but the view is pretty and
the feeling is exhilarating.
Then the
guy on your back signals that it’s time to pull the chute.
You might
have thought that the best part of a sky-dive is the falling. But falling is
overrated.
When the chute
opens and you go from 60 miles an hour to 10 miles an hour it feels like time
stops and you’re just stuck in the middle of heaven, floating.
Serenity.
That is the
word that best describes this feeling.
The rushing
sound of the wind stops and you suddenly realize how peaceful the earth really
is. You look down, and everything is still tiny below you.
Insignificant.
And still
so very important.
But this
post isn’t just about sky-diving. It’s also about love.
Whenever I
kiss a guy I really, really like, I get this feeling that I’m falling without a
parachute. It’s the most exhilarating, fantastic, and scary experience. And you’re
so lost in falling that you forget that you’re even supposed to be wearing a
parachute.
I’ve come
to not particularly like these kisses. Because when you fall without a
parachute it’s going to end bloody.
Last
weekend I kissed an old friend. We have always balanced that fine line, but
timing has never worked out before now. And it’s not true love – we’re both too
jaded right now for that. And we each deal with issues that make us unfit for
each other. But I trust this guy more than any other. I’ve told him my deepest
darkest secrets. And he hasn’t rejected me. He’s been there. And we’re not
super tight like that. We don’t hang out that often. But for the last ten years
he’s been the guy I knew would always be on my side. He’s been my friend. And I’ve
been his friend.
Anyway. We
kissed. And it just felt so natural. So comfortable and effortless. As I left
his place and took the bus home I felt safe and completely happy with myself
and my actions. Because I knew I trusted him. I knew I liked him. But I also
knew that I didn’t have to be afraid of us ever becoming a couple. Of us
building a future together. Of me sacrificing my dreams for his happiness (the
story of most of my relationships). It just felt right.
It felt like
he was my parachute.
And I know
I’ll land soft on the ground sometime in the future. Everything has to end
after all. But right now I’m just enjoying floating in the air.
Because
after all falling is overrated.
