The guy buckles me into the harness. This is really happening. Can I tell them to just put away my parachute? I look over at my son next to me. He is all grins. I look up at the sky. There are only two clouds. Behind me, the bright parachute billows. My heart is racing. I smell the pina colada fragrance of my sunscreen, which I’m now sweating off. There’s a finality of hearing a buckle click on a harness. Before that click, this idea was just that… an idea.
This wasn’t my first parachute rodeo, as they say.
When my husband and I were dating, we went on a trip to Turkey. We signed up to do some paragliding, where you strap yourself to an instructor, and your parachute is open. They have you run off the side of a cliff. Actually, they say, “Keep running, but even if you don’t, we’re still going.” Once off, you pull your legs up and you’re flying, with the instructor guiding the chute. I had been a little scared of it.
But the jeep ride up the mountain was so rocky and dangerous, I knew I’d rather paraglide down that mountain than have to get back in that death trap. The paragliding turned out to be amazing. It was truly gorgeous. We glided like birds hovering above the sparking Turkish coast below. My husband said the experience “opened his mind” so much that he was moved to propose to me the next day.
I used to be cool like that, willing to do some adventurous things.
I’ve parasailed. I’ve parachuted out of an airplane. I’ve shopped at J.C. Penny’s at
So, off we went. Our parachute filled with air. Slowly we lifted further and further up into the sky. And the boat and shore below looked smaller and smaller. I was completely terrified.
It now seemed utterly crazy what we were doing.
The realization dawned on me that if something went wrong and God forbid, we should fall, that fall was going to seriously hurt. Why it only occurred to me at that particular moment in time, I can’t say. To calm my nerves, I started singing.
I can’t remember what all songs — it could have been some Stevie Wonder (My Cherie Amor is my go-to song in times of stress) or some Amy Grant, or some Bob Marley. My son was happy as a clam and swinging his little legs in his seat, smiling and looking all around. He took my singing as an expression of delight. Sweet boy, he thought I was so relaxed and joyful about this whole thing, that I needed to burst into song. He even joined me on a
Years later, I finally admitted to him that I’d been scared, and my days spent paragliding, parasailing, or anything above 5 feet off the ground were officially over. I could tell this confused him, because his memory was of the two of us having a grand ole time. I wish I could have kept up that facade a little longer.
It feels a bit like Peter Pan. I’m now a grown-up and the daredevil escapades of youth are over.
I love Kathleen Madigan’s comedy bit about how fears change with age. I’m paraphrasing, but it’s something like: “I don’t know why teenagers want to scare themselves with horror movies. If a vampire jumped out at me in my house, I truly wouldn’t care, I wouldn’t bat an eye. But let me show you this mole I found… it’s really scary-looking.” She goes on to talk about getting a letter from the IRS and being afraid to open it, and how scary some “adulting” type of things are. I’m with you, Kathleen.
I guess some fears trade places when we get older, and the stuff we thought was thrilling as youth becomes scary.
I think I’ll have to put away my parachute and leave the skydiving for the young and brave. Going forward, I’ll have to be ok with being grounded. There are plenty of scary things out there without my needing to seek more.
P.S.: I didn’t totally learn my lesson as years later I opted to ride the banana boat with my boys, which ended in, as my husband put it (he was watching from the shore): one of the most spastic
P.S.S.: My younger son says I am selling myself short, as he reminded me I just went tubing with him the other day. When will I ever learn?