'Taking the plunge' by Joyce Bingham

 

     The water flowed beneath me, it was a turquoise blue, the sandy riverbed gleaming and shimmering in the ripples across the water. The helmet didn’t fit, it was loose and the strap bit into my chin, wet strands of hair stabbed me in my eye. I crossed my arms as instructed, my heartbeat threatened to burst out of my wet suit. The height sought to steal my self-control, would I hit the water or be thrown by a violent wind to the shore, break my limbs on the boulders.

     The others watched me, they laughed, they swam in circles beckoning me.

     Now.

     I held my nose and jumped. The air moved around me, my feet no longer secure, I sailed and flew like a bird for a nanosecond, then I plunged. The shock of the icy water, shaking and coughing for breath, relief and exhilaration merged.

   The river flowed around me, I wanted another chance, but the moment had evaporated like the drops of water on my warm face, and we swam away, a snippet of bravery tucked into my soul.