What Was That About Fear?

Twelve thousand feet above ground level, I suddenly remember my fear of heights.

I flinch as the skydiving instructor opens the door above the clouds. The wind comes screaming into the airplane.

Oh, holy crap.

The instructor pats my shoulder, then checks our gear again.

“Good to go!” He yells. “You ready?”

Hell no, I’m not ready!

I swallow hard and nod jerkily. “Sure!” I yell loud enough to be heard over the screaming wind.

I’m shaking. I squeeze my eyes shut as we leap from the airplane. Next thing I know, we’re mid-air, the instructor strapped to my back. We’re like a clumsy turtle plummeting from the sky. Fear rushes up into my mouth from my throat like bile but I can’t even hear myself scream.

“Fear,” I choked, desperately channeling Frank Herbert, “is the mind-killer. I will face my fear. I will. I will—”

My breath starts coming in short, rapids gasps. my heart is hammering hard enough to burst out of my chest. What was that about a bucket list? God, help me. I should have just gone to France instead. Wait. I don’t believe in god, do I? I offer up a quick, silent prayer to the heavens. Somebody up here’s gotta be listening, right?

“Open your eyes!” Yells the instructor. “Trust me!”

I open my eyes. They go wide. The universe tilts on its axis.

We’re falling, falling. The clouds dash by. The ground is rushing up to meet us from so far, far away. The sky is blue. The sea is green. The earth is a kaleidoscope.

What was that about fear? Screw you, fear.

I’m on fire now. I’m a rocket. I’m a meteor. I’m a seabird dive-bombing the green.

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