Swimming Hole, Part Two

I am not a risk-taker. I do not go on roller-coasters and I wouldn’t even consider doing anything as insane as sky-diving or bungee jumping. I do not seek excitement. I play it safe. I try to stay no more than 10 kilometres over the speed limit. I use cruise control, just to be sure. I do my utmost to abide by the rules. I actually read the on-line waivers and disclaimers. I do not sign my name to anything that I have not carefully read through first. I keep my head down and rarely do I make a spectacle of myself.

My husband is my polar opposite: rules are meant to be broken, or at least questioned, tested and bent. The speed limit is just a suggestion. ‘Do not Trespass’ signs are – clearly – an invitation. Any dare is an official challenge. His voice is loud and booming. He is not a man who goes unnoticed. Whether people love him or hate him in no way changes his demeanour.

Our favourite swimming hole has a rock overhang which stands perhaps five metres above the deepest pool. The first time I saw it, I knew that my husband would be jumping off it as soon as it caught his attention. It didn’t take long: within minutes, his body was flying through the air into the murky water below. “Do you know how deep the water is?” I asked in alarm, when he came grinning to the surface. “Nope,” was his nonchalant answer, as he headed back up the slope for another go. As usual, I rolled my eyes. He does not intend to leave this life quietly if he can help it, and all I can do is enjoy him while I still have him. I stopped trying to hold him back a long time ago. He seizes the day as if every moment were his last.

Truth be told, I have always envied that easy daring. I have always been drawn to the risk-takers. So many of my friends growing up were the gregarious tree climbers; the leaders; the instigators. Every once in awhile I would like to be the one taking a risk of my own.

I had my chance last summer. While no one was watching, I made my way to the top of the overhang above our swimming hole. I stood there a long time, taking several faltering steps backward and then forward again. I kept thinking, ‘If not now, when?’

I looked down and caught my husband’s eyes and sweet, grinning face looking up at me. “Carpe diem,” I whispered. And jumped…

Patti Moore Wilson /© wednesdayschildca.wordpress.com

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