I Went Skydiving

It’s funny, I wasn’t even all that scared.  I just made sure I had my hand on the ripcord before I jumped and I clutched at it as hard as I could.  I hung there at the door of the plane, looking out at the cloudless sky and the perfectly cut squares of farmland plowed so neatly.  Before I hardly even knew what had happened someone had given me a little push, or the plane had hit a bump in the airstream, and I was out, falling free.  My hand had slipped from the ripcord in the confusion, but I found it again easy enough.  I pulled it and the chute unfurled and caught the air with a snap, suddenly pulling me up into a much gentler descent.

I drifted down and landed on the grassy median in the middle of the freeway.  The draft from a passing semi drew at my chute, threatening to pull me out onto the road.  I fumbled around, frantically trying to undo the latches.  I got the thing off and I watched it as the wind caught it and carried it across the sky and out of sight. 

I turned and there was a tall, portentous, man with white hair walking across the field towards me.  He wore a suit and he seemed very professional and determined, completely mindless of the cars zipping by on either side of the field.  He was apparently supposed to be my boss.  I had a moment of awkward confusion because I realized that I had missed work and now he had caught me.  He came up and took an appraising look down his nose at me.  He inquired about my health as I tried to sheepishly throw together an answer.  But then he just gave me a pat on my shoulder and told me to enjoy my vacation, and I remembered with a sigh of relief that I had legitimately taken this time off.  I looked up and saw the long trail left by the plane I had jumped from.  Everything was going to be alright.  There was nothing to worry about.    


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