Tall, slender, and much younger than I (does he have enough experience?) Jeremy spouted directions by rote; I could tell he’d done it a hundred times. Was that reassuring or not? Just lean back and pull up your harness. Wait, I say, after? Yes, he nods. My mind freezes—I don’t pull my harness up until AFTER? Wait, I must have misunderstood! Okay, he hollers—Ready? Run! What—how? My legs obeyed and I staggered forward into what passed for a lope, my legs wide and awkward his body close behind mine, like running a two legged race in front of your partner. The emerald green blades bent before us lazily bowing in our wake. I ran. I looked ahead. The edge had seemed a long way away before and now as I ran it loomed and beyond was only wide open space—to live, and breath, and exult. Only mist and seagulls and glittering ocean—if it was my last leap it was exactly, stunningly the vista I would choose to take with me.

One moment I was pushing my sneakers into the spongy firmament the next there was no thing there, only air. I was flying—I had never felt so free—I was light and ethereal—and then: Now, lean back and pull your harness up! My body obeys. My mind does not allow practicality to intrude on this moment. My organs had lifted off when we cleared the edge to I don’t know where—my heart was…wait it was still beating…a crazy dadaddaDUM rhythm but I was whole. I grinned into the wind. My head swiveled like a dashboard dog with a bobble head: up to the rainbow cloth and dancing cords above us—we are an air puppet—God is pulling the strings. Down to the wet sand and silent waves below….soooo far below. We zoomed and banked over the edge—we darted over the heads of hikers and our laughter reverberated off the red stone walls.

-Laura Allen

[photo by Laura Allen]