And the green grass grows all around, all around, and the green grass grows all around.

Saturday, July 14^th

Everyone takes risks. A little boy decides to cross a busy intersection; a doctor enters surgery; a robber attempts a daytime break-in. What makes us do things if we know there are risks involved? How do we decide that the risk is less than the reward? I suppose this is what we call collateral. It is the guarantee that, should we take the risk, our outcome will be worth it. The boy crosses the street with the collateral that the red light means no cars are coming; the doctor with knowledge of his procedure. The robber enters the house knowing full well that the police are busy with a domestic abuse case three streets over. So, if we feel safe, then perhaps the risk is not so... well, risky.

So, here I stand, on a precipice – literally – knowing that this is a risk I have to take, something I must do. This fear of falling has commanded me too long, and it is time to show that I can control my body and my life. But as I stand here, the fear that always grips me suddenly comes, like an evil twin, whispering doubts in my ear. And I have to think... how did I make it here?

We have been talking about it for weeks, probably since we got here. I’m not sure who first mentioned it, and it doesn’t really matter, because, from almost the first day, it has been in the plans to jump off a bridge. Due to the constant change in plans and the always present danger that it might not happen, the decision has been kept a secret from the public. Then last weekend we went to Monteverde and did the zip line course, after which Beth decided not to follow through with the plan. I think it had much less to do with fear for her and more to do with the fact that she just did not enjoy zipping... so why would she enjoy jumping? That is logic I can understand, but even so, a bit of my confidence has slipped away. Hannah’s excitement cannot quite win me over – next to me, she seems a seasoned pro.

Even so, I find myself awake this morning, simultaneously excited and scared shitless (pardon my honesty). And, unfortunately, the scared part of me is the one with which I am most familiar. Yet I know I cannot back out, even when we arrive at the bridge and are checking out T-shirts. Beth pays her ride-along fee... I could still back out... but no. I have to do this. Yet, when I walk to the bathroom to change into the pair of shorts Beth has let me borrow, I cannot quell the bile rising in my stomach. Hannah does not understand. She is beyond excited. I think it must be impossible to truly describe fear. I cannot simply say: “when I am high up, I feel like hurling.” It is not that simple. For when I lean over the railing to look down into the Rio Colorado, I am not afraid. But for so long I have been, and for some reason, that is proving hard to shake.

And then we are harnessed in. I pay close attention to Hannah and her form. It is perfect. She pulls herself up on the platform, walks out, and on the count of five smoothly swan dives off the metal into the air. I am breathless and excited for her; she exudes the confidence I lack. Too soon she is pulled back up, and it is my turn. I sit on the platform, pull myself around, and walk out. And freeze.

And this is where I am. Standing, desperate to jump and bitter with myself for allowing my fear to paralyze me. So when the guide counts down, I stop him. But after a few bracing breaths, I let him start again. And this time I jump... well, I try. My body jumps, while my feet stay glued to the metal. Therefore, I am pulled into a crouch, a frog jump as I fall into open air. And then I fall. That part I hardly remember, for it could not have been more than two seconds. Then there is a tug, a jerk, and more falling. But I hardly realize that I am being tossed around like una muñeca. Instead, I am almost in tears. I just jumped. No puedo creer que he saltado. No creo. I am in shock. And as the blood drains to my head, I feel proud.

They pull me back up, and I rush into Hannah and Beth’s arms. We are laughing and talking and smiling; they are proud of me, and I of Hannah. And Beth. I know it has not been easy to come out here with us, knowing she is not going to jump. But I thoroughly appreciate her presence. She has been taking pictures throughout the entire process and now shows me. So here is the deal: I am not the thinnest kid (by any stretch of the word), but these pictures show off my rather large thighs and basically highlight my fatty areas. So very very few of them are going on facebook, if any. But, should you ask, I will almost certainly show you the DVD they give me of the jump – it’s pretty awesome.

Yet in the moments after the jump, I am disappointed. Beth and Hannah laugh about my half jump/fall off the platform, and we joke and such about my sudden fear. But inside, I am thoroughly disgusted with myself. This was my chance, y’know? My chance to beat it, and I didn’t. I just... fell. There was no jump. And that upsets me.

So... although I feel slightly anticlimactic in doing so, I think I will detail the rest of the day here. Just know that what you just read was perhaps the most interesting part of the day. Bueno.

Our very nice driver takes us to San Jose, where the first order of business is to find a bank so I can repay Hannah for my Bungee T-shirt and get money for souvenirs. Yet when three bank ATMs refuse to tell me my balance, I start to panic. I have no clue whether my last transfer went through, and I refuse to remove any more money before I see. I am frustrated, but the girls are hungry, so they drag me to Taco Bell where Beth buys my lunch. Have I mentioned lately how great my friends are? I really am blessed to have them here with me (not just for the money).

We are loath to leave the restaurant – the first to offer us free refills and cheesy fiesta fries! – but I really need to find a bank. Beth comes across an ATM like those in the mall, and thank God, it takes my card. I realize I do have enough to get souvenirs, so I remove some money and immediately pay Hannah back. Then we search out an internet cafe where I e-mail my parents about our last week here. Beth has been pulling her hair out with the planning (I should feel bad that I am not doing more, but I am loving not being in charge for once!). Thanks Beth. I’ll love you even when you’re bald.

After we all have our fill of internet time, there is general consent that the time is ripe for ice cream. So a visit to Pops is orchestrated, and within minutes we are chilling in an upstairs room, helado in hand. The rest of the day is hastily planned out.... Do we still want to go to the market? How about tomorrow? Well, if not today, perhaps the jazz club? But I don’t want to get home late.... Well, it is only three... what about a movie? A movie?! Oh my!

So we set off to the mall to see Transformers. Unfortunately, the line is way long, and I am pretty sure we are not going to get into the time we want. So instead, we embark on an adventure and hightail it to the Outlet Mall, which I quickly decide I like much better. It is not nearly as crowded, and, even though we get there less than ten minutes before the movie starts, we still get tickets (despite the fact that the woman wouldn’t take my money, and I now owe Beth)! Whoot!

Transformers is stupendous. I won’t gush over it like I did with HP 5, but I do love it. It is most certainly an action flick, full to the brim with superficial characters, hot women, and fast music. But damn, what an action flick! I mean, it has robots! And who cannot get chills when a Mack truck turns into a robot and introduces himself as Optimus Prime? Please. Although, the best part may be the insanely vague subtitles and the censoring they incorporated. Fun stuff (I have started saying this a lot, and I can’t figure out where I picked it up).

Después de la película, nosotros caminamos a la Universidad, donde tomo un bus a mi casa. Although I am super tired when I get home, I still talk to my parents for a while about my day. I suddenly want to show them my jump, and I even intrude on the privacy of their bedroom to do so. They are excited to watch and make more than appropriate noises of disbelief and awe. And for the first time today, I am truly proud. Who cares about my form? I jumped off a freakin’ bridge. And watching this video, I am sure. I may think I fell, but I jumped. I did it.

The rest of the night passes without incident. I knit for a bit and listen to music before going to bed. I do have a bit of a cough when I lay down, but it does not stop me from falling asleep.

So, thoughts about today: The jump didn’t change anything. I am not suddenly a new person. It did not even really banish my fear of heights (as I discovered earlier in the mall). But it did give me something: confidence. There is no reason I cannot do whatever I wish. I have the power. Fear is normal. Fear is healthy. But now, fear cannot stop me. And that makes the whole day worth it.