The Jump

I took swimming lessons when I was young. I loved them, and I have many memories of diving, bobbing, floating, etc. The most vivid memory I have, however, is the instant before jumping into the pool. My brothers and I took lessons at 8 in the morning. We crawled out of bed barely awake before our instructor blew the whistle to begin. We walked on the hard square-tiled pool deck and my stomach started to quiver. The dark blue water of the deep end would gloom in front of me, and in my mind it could have been the ocean. You couldn't see the bottom and any number of things could be lurking in the shadows. It looked so big and powerful and mysterious. I remember hearing the second blow which meant it was time to go in, and I remember being the last one to finally do it. I would walk to the edge and peer into the blueness and it felt like time stood still. I had no choice but to jump. Going back to Mom would mean humiliation, but it was hard to understand the fifteen minute change from my warm flannel-sheeted bed to shivering on the edge of the Pacific Ocean. How the hell did I get here? I remember counting down from five, closing my eyes, holding my breath and taking the leap.

I arrived in New York yesterday morning. I had been anticipating that moment for a long time, but it still surprised me. The flight felt like seconds. I talked with a man from Hawaii who told me that everyone is motivated by either love or fear. He said that every action from the bombings of the World Trade Center to the marriage of high school sweethearts springs from one of these. He made me think, and as I left the plane I hoped my adventure was backed by the love. I grabbed my bags and headed to the entrance and realized I had no idea where I was going. I had forgotten to get the address off of my email, and then I realized that even if I did know where to go, I had no idea how to get there. I remember walking to the corner of the airport and looking out at the sea of people flowing past me. Where was I? What was I doing? And where the hell was I going? My stomach started to turn inside me and time slowed a bit. Two hours later, a phone call, a bus ride, and forty-five minutes of trudging my two suitcases and two carry-ons, I was sitting in my apartment in Astoria, Queens. I dumped my stuff on the floor and moved to the window to look outside. I was living in New York City. I had taken the jump.