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on the pole and started climbing. I felt like a telephone lineman. I felt like the little boy in Jack and the Beanstalk, climbing up, up, up into the sky. At first, I thought the climb would be a cinch, but by the time I heaved myself up onto the platform, I was dripping with sweat and exhausted from the effort. David had his safety harness already attached to the cable on the pole across from me on the very narrow platform we shared. I hollered some words of encouragement to him. “This is great! It will be fun. But don’t jump without me.” I felt the instructor’s hands unbuckling my harness. “Hold on tight.” he warned gently. “Just put your arms behind you and hang onto the pole while I unhook you, and then I’ll hook you up again to the Zip Line.” Hold on tight? Are you kidding? Slowly, very slowly, I put my arms behind me and grabbed the pole with all the strength in my hands. Nothing can pry my fingers off of this pole! “Okay, you can let go now. You’re all attached. Go ahead and jump,” he told me, rather nonchalantly. “Jump? Just like that?” I screamed at him. My voice became a little softer, a little braver. “I think my husband and I should jump at the same time. That will be easier, don’t you think?” “How about if I count?” he suggested. “One, two, three,” he counted aloud between us on the platform. Neither of us jumped. I started to laugh because my brave husband was suddenly not so brave, at least not this time. “Do you want me to count again?” he volunteered. I think he was about ready to push me off the platform. The people on the ground were getting impatient for their turns. “Okay. We can do this,” I told him with a little more confidence. Patiently, he counted again. “One … two … three!” I didn’t want to do the climb of shame back down that tall wooden pole. Figuring my stalling time was up, I took a deep breath, said a quick prayer, and jumped. I was totally terrified for the three seconds of freefall before my harness and line caught onto the cable. I heard myself screaming. I was flying, soaring like a weightless seagull, thrilled by the ride. Two seconds behind me, I

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2017 Freshwater Literary Journal  
2017 Freshwater Literary Journal  

Professional literary journal produced at Asnuntuck Community College

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