Love Facing Fears

          This seemed like a good idea a month ago. I mean it was so easy. I called, gave my name, credit card number, and smiled patiently as the nice lady on the other end of the line went through the obligatory list of warnings. Now, however, as I sit in this small office, initialing each line next to words like “parachute malfunction” and “Risk of pain, suffering and death,” I begin to wonder if this is really the best way to face my fear of heights.

            Each scribble becomes more illegible as my quivering hand fights to sign the last few pages. I stop reading the words because with each warning, the lump in my throat balloons into the size of grapefruit and my stomach may just cartwheel right out of my body. I gaze hopeful toward the clouded sky. With any luck, rain will begin to pour and they’ll hand me my refund and I’ll be on my way home like nothing happened.  No one has to know. Who am I kidding?!  I told everyone back home I’m going to do this. No one believes me. They’re all waiting for the video to be posted on YouTube and even then, you know there will be skeptics like Uncle Tony who will say the whole thing was doctored. “Ana,” my name is called and my eyes shoot to a smiling man holding a helmet. The sight of the helmet’s dangling clasps makes me laugh, a very nervous laugh, of course.

            The roaring engine does little to distract me from the altimeter strapped around my wrist…11,000, 12,000, 13,000 feet. I promised I wouldn’t look out the window but my body is being pushed toward a glass door. “Hold on to the bar above you,” the instructor shouts. With one swoosh, he opens the door and my feet are dangling over the clouds. I breathe in the cold air and without another thought, I jump.