Falling From the Sky
Long time readers know that my last few years have been filled with something a little less cheery than sunshine. A blizzard? Tornado? Flood? Tsunami?
I needed a release. A way to let go. A way to look in the eyes of the person(s) that caused said disaster in Linnyland and give them the finger.
So what did I do?
I threw myself out of a plane.
For my 31st birthday, I got myself strapped to a fantastically goodlooking man, said a small prayer and threw myself into nothingness.
Lept with reckless abandon.
So what if Mr. Fantastic did a double somersault straight out the back door without warning me first. As soon as I realized that this wasn't the stupidest thing I've ever done and I wasn't going to throw up, it was pretty damn cool.
If you've never jumped out of a plane before...I liken it to diving into a swiming pool. The cold air hits you in the face and goes up your nose. You're not sure which way is up, which is down or whether you're standing on your head. But once the bubbles clear...you see the world from a whole new perspective.
There is nothing like floating thousands of feet in the air, feeling the wind wrap a protective arm around you...holding you up so you can soar through the clouds...experience long awaited freedom and drown out all the voices, all the people, all the opinions that have been stalking you. Plaguing you.
I let it all go.
Left them to fall where they may.
For one brief, magnificent window of time...I was free.
I could hear Mr. Fantastic screaming my ear. "Wooooo! Isn't this fantastic? Isn't this beautiful?" And I couldn't help but to think...yes...it is.
I don't know how long we were in the air but the green grass snuck up on us and all too soon I was gliding in...landing softly in Mr. Fantastic's lap.
I turn 32 in five months...wonder how I'm going to top that.