The High Dive

"Don't do it, Leah!" I gazed down at the clear blue water from the top of the high dive, trying hard to wash away the fears that clogged my mind. I tried to swallow the lump stuck in my throat, disintegrate the tight knot in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't. 1

The water loomed below me--it was a long way down. I glanced up and caught the look in my friends' pleading eyes. Don't do it, don't do it, their voices reverberated in my mind. I had never even wanted to do this in the first place, but it was a dare. A dare made by myself. I had been afraid of the high dive all my life. When I was little, I'd sit in the shallow end watching the older kids stand in long lines just to go on, the loud thwacks echoing though the room as their bodies hit the water, each thwack sounding of pain and discomfort to my ears. They were brave, they were more courageous than I and I had always felt small next to them. This was something I had to do, to prove to everyone--and to prove to me--who I really was, that I was not a coward. 2

I looked behind me to to see a line of kids formed by the stepladder, with impatient glares crossing their faces. They waited.3

They were waiting for me, I realized. I peered down at my friends once more. They watched intently. Maybe I don't have to do this, I thought to myself. Maybe there was still just enough time to climb down, return to the wonderful comfort of standing on real ground. No, I couldn't do that. I'd be Leah the Small for the rest of my life, I'd be Leah the Chicken, Leah the Coward. I couldn't back away when I was so close. I couldn't.4

Squeezing my eyes shut, I took one trembling step and jumped. When I opened them again, I was falling toward the water, and for that split moment of my life, I felt my heart lift with limitless power, I felt wonderfully brave. I felt I was riding on golden wings, soaring through clouds and serenading the world below. For that split moment, I felt free. Then, thwack! and the feeling was--as if it were never there--completely gone.