I experienced an unbounded free feeling when jumping out of a perfectly good plane to freefall at 120 mph toward Earth that appeared to be but a distant patchwork of fields below. Falling like a rock.

I went to a skydiving center near Seattle, Washington. After a thirty-minute lesson on safety and what to expect, my fellow adventurers and I geared up and boarded a plane for a fifteen-minute flight to our designated altitude. We circled Mt. Rainier at 14,000 feet. From the plane, we could see the Cascade Mountain Range, Mt. Baker in the distance, Puget Sound, all of Seattle, the San Juan Islands, Vancouver Island, and the Olympic Mountain range. The signal was given to jump. I was fifth in line. I must say there was a moment of trepidation but not of hesitation. It was a tandem dive, so I was tethered to an experienced skydiver, and I knew I’d be going – fluttering butterflies in my stomach, be damned. Oh my, what a rush – an H-bomb of adrenalin. It felt like smacking face first into a swimming pool from the high dive. Instead of water rushing up, thrusting against me, it was a solid wall of air. I gasped at the impact. It took my breath away. Who knew air would feel like a hard slap in the face? I quickly gathered my wits so I could enjoy the ride.

When you are up so high, 12,000 feet was the jump altitude as I remember, you are not falling by anything. Unlike Alice in Wonderland tumbling down the rabbit hole sliding past cupboards, maps, and bookshelves, there is nothing around you by which to judge your rate of downward progress, so your senses don’t register a fall. It feels like air surfing. After a couple of minutes of that delicious sense of floating freedom, my skypartner gave the signal for me to pull the cord and release our parachute. Thunk. The freefall ended abruptly. We snapped to a much slower pace, 20 mph, as we glided slowly toward the target with our big sail unfurled. The entire jump lasted less than ten minutes. I experienced heart-pounding, joyful exhilaration.

This was several years ago. It was one of those things I promised myself I would do. A bucket list item of sorts even though I didn’t really have a bucket list at that time. My husband was out of town for a few days on a golf trip and I wanted an adventure. I knew he would not appreciate the idea of my jumping from a plane, so I didn’t tell him. I made a reservation for the dive and then on another whim, I made a reservation for the next day to go white water rafting on the Skagit River north of Seattle. A different kind of adventure he wouldn’t endorse. Both escapades were something I always wanted to do and that was my chance to do them. A few days before I left, I thought maybe I should tell someone where I was going just in case something happened. I knew I couldn’t tell my husband or mother because both would worry, and I didn’t want that. It would cloud my enjoyment of the adventure. I called our eldest daughter to let her know. She thought it was a grand idea and asked if she could join me. Of course! That would make it even better – a co-conspirator and fellow adventurer. We left early Saturday morning for the skydive, then returned home and left early Sunday morning for the river rafting trip.

Although I liked the white-water rafting episode, I’m not a big fan of water. It is a total body workout to guide a bouncing boat through rocks and waves of a swiftly moving river. Imagine riding a bucking bronco through high tide. It’s nothing like the calm peace of skydiving. It was rigorous and lasted for hours, not minutes. There were four boats in our group and six people, including a guide for each boat. One fellow on another boat didn’t follow the carefully explained instructions and flew out of his craft and had to be rescued. The professional guides smoothly navigated his retrieval. Their calm expertise soothed the panic that threatened me as he was tossed about in the pounding waves. All returned in good shape, and it was a fun experience. My entire body ached for days.

I was so happy to have our daughter join me to share the memory. I hired a photographer to video our skydive, but I never watched the recording. When my husband returned from his golf trip, I told him about our adventure. He wasn’t terribly surprised that I would do something like that. I think he was glad I didn’t tell him before, so he didn’t worry. We also told my mom. She was dismayed and also glad I hadn’t told her.

There are three things in my life that have given me that free feeling. First is riding a horse at a gallop, racing as if being chased by wolves. A horse’s hooves are all off the ground at the same time when they are full out running and the feeling of flying on the back of a powerful animal is awe-inspiring. The second is voyaging in a sailboat with the wind full in the sail, silently slicing through water at six or seven knots. It is a most peaceful feeling of not being earthbound. The third is skydiving. Humans throughout history have envied birds and attempted to defy gravity. In the 1480s Michelangelo observed and tried to replicate the freedom of avian flight as evidenced by his drawings and notes. I never repeated my skydiving experience. Had I started in my 20s, I may have become addicted. The life I lead has kept my feet on the ground, but my head still often floats in the clouds.