When I was a boy, I wanted to jump from the high dive. In the summer at the public pool, I would watch the other boys and girls as they would climb the tiny ladder straight up to the platform two stories above the water. They would stand for a moment, so confident, so brave, and then they would jump. Some would dive headfirst, while others were more cautious, choosing to fall feet first straight down, but either way, all would take the plunge to the clear water below. It looked so exhilarating, so intoxicating, and so much fun. I yearned to do it, but I was afraid.

It was so high. What if I wasn’t strong enough to climb that high? And if I did make it to the top, what if I was afraid to make the leap? What if I couldn’t bring myself to jump? What if I just stood there or turned around and went back? Or worst of all, what if I got hurt? So many days were spent wondering, considering, fantasizing. Until one day, I said, The hell with it. Today is the day. Today I will jump.

I went to that ladder, and I tentatively reached up to grab a rung with one hand while I placed my foot on another. I pulled myself up. Then I repeated the process. Again and again, slowly, painfully slowly, I climbed, rung after rung. I pulled myself up. And as I climbed, I began to gain more confidence, moving faster and faster till I reached the top.

At the top of the platform, I stood far above the world. I could feel the wind, just a gentle breeze, but it felt to me like a hurricane, as if it could carry me away or blow me down. And I walked to the edge, shaking with anticipation. The water seemed so far away. Again, I was afraid.

But then a realization came to me – you want this.  You made the climb despite your fear, despite your reservations. You wanted this, and now you are here. And so with a deep breath, I steeled myself for the plunge, and I jumped. I fell. And I fell, and I fell, and I fell. And it was exhilarating, and it was intoxicating, and it was fun. I thought for a moment that I would never stop falling, and I thought that would be okay. But then…splash. I hit the water, and it engulfed me, surrounded me, and embraced me. It was warm, and it was perfect, and it was safe. I was happy. And I was so glad that I had taken the chance, taken the risk, that I done something wonderful despite my fear.

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Recently, I met someone, a remarkable woman of stunning beauty and charm. She challenges me. She excites me and opens me up to thoughts and experiences I hadn’t considered in a long while, if at all. She is exhilarating, intoxicating, and so much fun. There is giddiness to my existence these days, a perpetual smile upon my face. I wonder through daily routine thinking of her, wondering what we can do together, what experiences great and small we could share. I yearn to be by her side.

And she seems to feel the same about me. It has been a long time since I have been desired in that way. Part of me doesn’t know what to do with that. Part of me is afraid.

I don’t know what will happen. I don’t know what will come. I feel as if I am reaching for the rung of a ladder and preparing to climb.

All I know is that the water looks warm and inviting. And I am standing on a platform far above the world, the wind is blowing like a hurricane, and may carry me off, I know not where. And if I jump, I may fall, I may fall forever. I may get hurt. And then again, I may hit the water and be embraced by its warmth and safety. But I will never know if I don’t take that step, if I don’t take the plunge. And so…

I jump.

Photo by Rain La Rouge