I’m sitting on my patio, pen in hand, notebook on my lap but spending more time watching the clouds moving across a perfect blue sky than I am writing. The sun warms the area brightly but isn’t overbearing. The wind is rustling the honeysuckle laced bushes near me but outside of my little sheltered area I can still hear it’s intensity. I catch myself watching the speed of the clouds and the unsheltered trees whipping about. And I wonder if jumpers, even the more experienced ones, are in the air today or if the winds have them grounded despite the beautiful skies. It’s rare that I look up and not consider the jumping conditions and briefly wonder of those playing in the skies, if only for a moment. Most people make the same assumptions, the same comments. Skydivers are suicidal. They must hate life or be depressed or crazy. In fact, it’s the opposite. Every act taken during a day of skydiving is a resounding choice of life. It’s embracing all the joy and camaraderie and sensations available. It’s exhilarating. It’s truly experiencing rather than watching things happen. It’s not an attitude unique to the skydiving circle. White water rafters, expedition hikers, rock climbers, even roller derby girls all stand up and say “This is my life and here’s how I choose to embrace it completely.” It’s just that only the skydivers get to hug the clouds. But for now, I’m land bound. And it occurs to me that for the first time, I’m really okay with that. I am as content with my life as I can possibly be right now. I’m surrounded by everything – and everyone – that I need or want. Someday maybe I will play in the skies again. For now I’m content to watch the fat bumblebees play tag above my head.

“…And once you have tasted flight, you will walk the earth with your eyes turned skywards, for there you have been, and there you long to return…” – Leonardo da Vinci