It wasn't the best skydive I've ever made.

I was rusty, since I haven't been in the air for far too long. I fumbled the exit, because I can never make my body go completely straight when I'm upside-down. I was backsliding and shrunk away from my friend Lew every time she tried to dock. On my landing, I slid in on my rear and got my legs all muddy.

I was uncomfortable the whole skydive from start to finish. The sky was thick with bloated rainclouds, which drifted away just long enough for our jump. But it was still all cold and blustery up there, making for a turbulent and uncomfortable freefall.

Plus, I'm still working on replacing the gear that was stolen along with my car, so I was wearing a mish-mash of borrowed stuff.

The goggles poked the skin right under my eyes. I had no audible altimeter. The visual altimeter only had tiny digital numbers, making it difficult to read. I wasn't wearing a jumpsuit, only some Nike track pants and a fleece. And the helmet had this thing around my chin that made me claustrophobic in my own head.

But after six months, I was finally back in the air with Jason -- his first time skydiving since the accident over July 4 weekend. His back has finally healed, his pelvis was put back together, all Humpty-Dumpty like. And mentally? I still can't gauge where he's at. Sometimes I think the sadness has become such a part of us deep down inside, we can't even begin to talk about it.

The symbolism of this skydive could have been profound, you know? Jumping into the new year ... making a big leap ... taking flight ...

But really, all that was pushed away, shoved into some other place. This jump wasn't anything heavy or foreboding or sad or scary. It was happy and light, like one of those dreams where your body leaves the bed and you soar through all space and time.

I just wish you could have seen the look on Jason's face. Finally he could smile.

This entry was posted on Monday, January 02, 2006 at 11:57 PM. You can skip to the end and leave a response.