Shaking. I was shaking. The wind tossed my wet hair, causing it to stick against my cheek. 10 meters. 32.8 feet. I could hear nothing but the wind. My grip tightened on the silver handrail. A once in a lifetime chance he had said. Everyone should do it, he exclaimed. I had let my curiosity get the better of me. Reluctantly, I relinquished my grasp from the icy metal and stepped towards the edge. I felt like I could touch the sky. It was as if time had stopped. Silence. I took another step as a gust of wind made me sway unsteadily. Instantly, I reached out for something to hold onto, but there was only open air. My toes sought balance and clung to the slick, concrete platform as best they could. I let out a breath that I didn’t even know I had held. I was now at the edge. The point of no return. Cautiously, one toe (the big one) poked out into the open sky. Then another. And another. Until all ten piggies were curled around the edge.
Looking down was a mistake. The diving well, a mere blur of aquamarine 10 meters below my feet. Heart pounding. My breath coming in short, labored gasps. Here I go. Plummeting.
Back straight. Arms pressed. Like a penguin. Toes pointed. Toes Pointed. Don’t lean! Don’t you dare lean! Point your toes gosh darn it! Like a prima ballerina! Toes— SMACK! Water as welcoming as a brick wall. Jolting me back to reality. From my toes, to my thighs, to my belly, my hands, my arms, my head. Swallowed in a painful embrace. I don’t remember resurfacing, but I’m sure that when I did, I cursed. A once in a lifetime opportunity indeed.
