BASE

Oh how the air is crisp up here! Cold in my throat. I swallow, slowly blink, breathe, blink.

The morning has a sweet smell. My heart jumps. Closed eyes, I picture myself soaring over the giants, cold licking my cheeks, hands brushing the tops of the trees, palms sweating. Arms out.  Legs straight. Knees slightly bent. Steady. Everything flows past faster than I imagined, faster than I want.

 How I want to never come down.

But I am still up here, almost ready.

I pull the hand warmers from my pockets, the sunlight coming over the mountain catches the silver edges of packs label. “Okay”, I think.

Okay.

Out to the sides my arms span. My fingers wiggle in the brisk air up here. Thousands of feet up. I wiggle my toes. I imagine wiggling them in my shoes in the air.

I’ve made jumps before, but not like this. I imagine the angle of attack, imagine the wind, imagine the slight changes of throwing my shoulders back.

My suit came up with me today. I run my hands over it, examining every detail. The webbing of the legs. The wings.

Wings.

The part I was born without.

I get acquainted with her. The cliff. The air. The trees beneath me. The fear melts, the exhilaration ensues and I delight in this moment. Delight in the fragility I feel. Delight in my respect for the birds who’ve mastered this. How prepared they are immediately. They are just born and into it they go. Over many years I have prepared. Yet they do not make it to this cliff before sunrise to get to know her. They know her. She is home. She is their base.

Excitedly I clap, scrunch my nose, squint, shake my head back and forth again and again, throw my arms in the air, laugh.

“WOOO-OOO!!!”

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow I’ll make the jump.