The Jump
The Jump
by: me
I fell from the sky and hit face down in a pool of mud.
The hot air balloon that I left continued its haunt of the sky above.
I turned over and could not get up.
“Why on earth did you do that?” A young man asked me, looking down at me.
“I got tired of the view.” I replied.
“No parachute?”
“No.”
“Weren’t you afraid to die?”
“No.”
“If I didn’t jump, I may just have.” I told him.
He knelt by my side and began to wipe my face.
“I’ll do that.” I told him and brushed my palm across my forehead.
“Now what?” he asked.
“The next thing.”
“Which is?”
“I don’t know but not knowing is better than being sad.” I said.
“Yes.”
“The balloon is off to see new places. Hopefully.” I said.
“It’s on a new course.”
“I hope so.” I said.
“Will it come back?” He asked.
“Maybe. But the question is, will I get on it again.”
”Will you?”
“Depends on the view. Depends on the course. It depends on change.”
“I see.”
I smiled at the man, but it was really for me.
“I have a zeppelin over there.” He said.
“That’s nice.”
“Wanna go for a ride?” He asked.
“Maybe someday. Not right now. I need to regain my footing, my way.”
“It’ll be there for you.” He said.
“Not ready yet. But when I am, I’ll supply the hot air.” I joked.
“We’ll both supply it.” He said.
“Deal.” I said.
I walked until I discovered a tree and slept by its side, admiring its roots.
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