Like all children, I had strong faith in my infinite ability to achieve anything; in fact I still do. I was 12 when I found out about skydiving and automatically I knew I had to do it. I knew this was as close as I’d get to be Peter Pan.
A couple of years later, I had my first chance to fly, but it was either:
- Skydive or
- Bungee Jump, learn how to snowboard and go on a helicopter ride in New Zealand. As the second option included more things I choose to go ahead with this.
As much as I wanted to skydive, every time I was presented with the opportunity I made excuses. “Not now, and It was always too expensive.” The truth is skydiving both fascinated and scared me. When thinking of it, images of floating down gracefully through the sky were intertwined with those of falling quickly towards earth.
This fear grew even more when a dear friend of mine lost her brother, a skydiving instructor, in a skydive went wrong. Although I knew one is more likely to die crossing the road than skydiving, this accident was always on my mind.
On a side note, I guess he was lucky to pass away while doing something he loved.