As my instructor pulled the parachute cords left, then right, we swooped through the air, dipping low and flying high as the wind rushed past our ears. Below us, jewel tones of azure blue, bright turquoise green, emerald and cobalt sparkled in the sun.
As Matthew, the instructor, pulled down right, we dipped down low and slowly started spinning in a giant loop. A spiral of blues and greens whirled up at us and my tummy dip backflips as my heart beat a drumbeat in my chest – but I wasn’t scared, I was thrilled!
Deep, deep inside me, that primal joy that rarely finds it’s way up to our hearts started to bubble and fizzle it’s way up to my smile. With gravity pulling my shoulders back and only the wind (and Matthew) to hear me, all the joy and childlike excitement that my body contains boiled and bubbled up, through my chest and out of my mouth.
“I’m whooping!” I thought, as shouts of “Whoo-hoooooo!” came rushing out of my mouth and tears streamed from the corners of my eyes, whipped away by the wind. “I’m flying and I’m whooping!“
