Oakley
Sixteen
When I got ready this morning, I never expected to die.
I know what you’re going to say. That’s a bit dramatic, and I agree. It is. But what else would you call the feeling of standing on a sixty-foot cliff, looking down at a pool of bottomless, deep-blue water in the middle of the Adirondack Mountains, with three people below you, urging you to jump?
The climb to the jump-off point was steep and involved something called rock scrambling, which honestly scared the ever-loving shit out of me. But with some encouragement from Jessie, and a few helpful hands from both Levi and Justin, I made it up without too much difficulty.
Surprisingly, Justin is the first to jump, flipping into a somersault in midair before straightening out a millisecond before he hit the water.
When his head emerges a few moments later and he lets out a triumphant laugh, my apprehension eases a fraction.
Jessie follows shortly after, leaving me and Levi standing alone at the top.
“You ready?” Levi gives my hand a squeeze.
“Not at all,” I respond with a nervous laugh. My eyes dart from my feet to the open air in front of me, like my brain can’t make sense of how I’m supposed to fearlessly fling myself off a literal cliff.
“See you at the bottom.” Levi lets go of my hand and shoots me a wink before he jumps.
Once the accompanying splash of Levi hitting the water sounds from below me, I toe the edge of the cliff, knocking free a few small pebbles that plummet to the swimming hole beneath me. My heartbeat pounds in my ears.
How am I supposed to survive this?
It’s ironic how, a few weeks ago, I was asking myself the same thing about a completely different set of circumstances.
Yet, here I stand. Alive. Breathing. I survived that jump, and I’ll survive this one too.
Steeling my nerves, I step back a few paces, take a deep breath, and jump.
There's freedom in the jump. There’s freedom in the way my stomach sinks to my toes, and the weightlessness of nothing beneath me seems to spur me forward.
One second. Apprehension and stone-cold terror rip through me.
Two seconds. I’m flying. This is what it feels like to fly.
Three seconds. I close my eyes against the wind rushing past me and savor the feel of it wrapping around my body like silk, as if desperately trying to slow my fall, but never quite getting a good grasp on me. I don’t want it to.
The thrill of the fall is only part of it.
I plunge into icy cold waters, and it feels like an awakening, an electric shock straight through my nervous system that makes me feel more alive than I ever have before.
And I want to shout my victory from the mountaintops.