Trust me!
As I sat on the bench inside a small propeller plane moments before my parachute jump, I was acutely aware of the personal risk I was about to take.
On the ground, one hour earlier, I witnessed the parachute folding process, ensuring all the wires were properly sorted and not entangled.
I saw with my own blue eyes that all precautions were taken to prevent what nobody wanted to happen.
The parachute does not open.
Still, now sitting on the plane, my heart was pounding in my throat. What if? My wife was on the ground, pregnant with our first child. She never opposed the jump but later confessed she did not really ‘welcome’ my timing. What was I doing?
Call it a blind spot. Call it ignorance. Call it confidence on my part.
A year later or so, my wife made a jump herself. I was on the ground with our baby daughter. I could have been more relaxed while the plane took off to prepare for the jump. I had no clue how I would manage caring for a baby girl.
Back to my jump. I’m sitting on this plane with my heart pounding, full of excitement and fear — those incredible, paradoxical emotions that make you realize you’re about to leave your comfort zone and learn.
