As I hit the sky, the plane dwindles quickly above and behind me. I drink in the vast, eternal blue, the wisps of white clouds, the good green earth below. I spread my arms to slow my descent, determined to enjoy my period of free fall, that amazing liberty of levitation that drives me to jump again and again. I feel immortal, ethereal, divine. Even as I enjoy my flight over the landscape, however, I am keeping careful track of my descent and its timing. Some daredevils might play chicken with their lives, but I don't need that kind of adrenaline spike. Much as I enjoy free fall, I won't delay opening my chute and not live to jump again. In fact, it is time to open the chute now.
Now.
The sky blue above me, the earth green below me; the wind lofting me up and singing my passage down. I reach over my left breast with my right hand, feel the handle to pull; the ripcord that will release my chute. As my hand closes around the rubber-padded plastic of the handle, I notice a red barn on the ground below. The barn is in good repair, with fresh red paint and gleaming white trim. I smile when I observe the weather vane perched atop the peaked roof. I'm not close enough yet to see the decorative finial atop the vane, but I imagine it is probably a rooster.
Now...
My hand clasps the handle of the ripcord which will release my chute, and I give it a good, swift, yank; a decisive movement that I have rehearsed and performed many times. The silken parachute, packed tightly, intricately, expertly, slips out of its cocoon to unfurl gracefully into a billowing cloud above me; my own personal cloud, which will bear me gently back to my home on the ground.
I wait for the familiar jerk of my harness as the chute abruptly slows my descent, but it doesn't come. The silk has not unfurled gracefully above me. My personal cloud has not appeared to bear me to safety.
Now.
I am stunned. Only for a second. Two seconds. In that time, I have fallen another 100 feet.
Now the red barn is larger. I notice that the barn has a loft, which gapes, dark and inviting with the promise of a warm burrow of soft, sweet-smelling hay. When I was young, I used to play in the hayloft of Mr. Godfrey's barn, and one day I was stung by a hornet. It hurt like bejeezus and swelled up for a couple of days. I would give anything to be back there now...
...Now, I glance at my right hand, still clutching the rubber-padded plastic handle with the useless ripcord trailing in the wake of my descent. I release my grasp, because I am going to use that hand to pull the release on my backup chute. I have never needed my backup chute before, but I have trained thoroughly on that, as well. Now, as the ground rises far too quickly and the red barn begins to loom large in my field of view, I reach to pull the release on my backup chute.
The sun is bright in the blue sky. The red barn blazes vibrantly in the lush and verdant landscape. The scent of clover wafts to me from below. The cool wind against my face freezes the panic sweat on my brow. The rush of wind in my ears seems to recede as I am enveloped in stillness, taking in every detail even as I plummet toward the grass below. The world is achingly beautiful.
Now, my hand engages the release for the backup chute, and it does emerge, slipping from its pack, up and away from me, where it spreads almost languidly into a silken bower above my head. I feel the long-sought yank of the harness as the parachute catches a full breath of air and tugs at me, attempting to keep me from harm, but I have fallen too far, too fast, and I will die today.
Now, in my last moment of life, I see clearly the weather vane on top of the red barn and the figure that surmounts it.
It is a horse.
Image credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/clouds-sky-day-blue-sky-cloudy-88523/
