My Own Backyard

The summers in rural Ontario are the sleepy kind. The appeal is to get away from everyday life by lounging by the water with a book, cracking a mid-afternoon beer with your toes in the sand, or playing competitive lawn games. Individually, all of these are delightful, but the charm fades when repeated day after day. Supposedly-relaxing situations always make me anxious, like I should be doing more with my time.

The logical conclusion, of course, was to jump off a 60-foot cliff.

The rock, which had a a 10-foot galloping steed painted blood red at its base, wasn’t terribly imposing from below, but the steep climb up made me respect, if not yet fear, its vastness. I barely took a minute to catch my labored breath at the top, opting to make the leap before I changed my mind.

I got off to a running start. Dirt kicked up on the back of my legs and my heart pulsated just below my chin. I pushed off one-footed into the air, swinging my arms to generate more forward momentum. For the briefest moment – like the time in the batter’s box it takes to decide if you’re going to swing or not – I was flying. The crisp Canadian air rushed over my skin. The lush forest effortlessly meshed with the pristine lake below. The world made more sense from up here.

Not long after letting out a single four-letter expletive, the realization hit me that I was not flying. I was falling.

My body gained speed with every inch I fell. All my blood was either in my toes or my brain, I couldn’t tell which. I was temporarily paralyzed by fear, like I was riding a roller coaster with no harness. I was going to die upon hitting the water. I was certain of it.

Suspended in midair for ages, I tried to form a pencil stance for safe entry, which was as difficult as moving inside a spaceship during the launch (I imagined, at least). I felt off-centered just feet from the water, like I was going in face-first, but my feet hit the surface with a painful thud before I started plummeting towards the bottom.

The sigh of relief was put on hold, however. I panicked underwater, having no idea which direction was up. The pressure in my ears closed in on my skull, intensifying with each passing moment. Again, my death felt imminent, but my fear subsided once the wake from my splash disappeared. I rushed to the top and inhaled deeply upon resurfacing.

I let out a euphoric wail and I looked back up at the cliff, equally proud as I was petrified.