The Drop

The silence was deafening. I could see the waterfall running, the ripples it made, but I couldn’t hear the thundering it caused as it went crashing down. I watched my bare feet move swiftly over the pine needle–covered path. I knew there must be a crunch every time I stepped, but I heard nothing. When I looked up, I could see the other kids around me talking, their faces full of excitement, but I couldn’t hear a sound they made. All I could focus on was that in minutes, I would go sliding down a rock and plummet seven feet into ice-cold water.

I had walked up this path three years in a row, each time only to return alone and crushed. “Next year, “ I told myself, “it will be different.”


We had come to the top of the  path. I was only a few feet away from where the waterfall began running over the flat rock, to the drop, the drop that had always scared me away. The silence was broken by my name. The words that followed took my breath away.

“You’re up next.” My friend, who had spoken, smiled.

Not wanting to show my fear, I smiled back and walked to where the waterfall began. I sat down and looked at the small swimming hole below. Everyone waiting at the bottom was cheering my name, yelling, “You got this!”

I knew all I had to do was push myself forward, and the rest would be done for me. I looked at the drop one last time, closed my eyes, took a breath, and pushed.

    In that moment, time seemed to freeze. I felt myself being carried down the rock and couldn’t help but enjoy it. The ground came out from under me, and I couldn’t help but smile. I hit the water, cold as it was, and couldn’t help but open my eyes. I came up and couldn’t help but cheer, and as my feet touched solid ground, I couldn’t help but want to slide down the waterfall just once more.