It’s hard to remember when we had a fall like this last. It must have been way back when I was a kid (I can say that now without it sounding like an exaggeration). The sun warm and joyful, the light in the afternoons coating the city in honey. The air tasting of smoke, the wet leaves smelling of earth. Surrounded by bright yellows and look-at-me oranges and reds, I bite my tongue not wanting to jinx it by bursting out in screams of joy. But what a fall! The perfect fall for falling, don’t you think?
Allowing yourself to fall is where things get contorted. The amount of trust – in yourself and the other – that’s needed is unquantifiable, and by that almost a thing of science fiction stories. To make yourself completely vulnerable and at the mercy of whims only romance can awaken in human beings requires faith of indescribable strength. Yes, a perfect fall for falling. Just don’t forget that once you start falling, there’s no way to stop – except maybe for when you hit the ground with a most deafening thud.
So what if, instead of falling, you try jumping? Assess your best options, calculate trajectories, and for God’s sake, if you’re still not sure, prepare a parachute! You might float about for a while, the adrenaline high won’t be quite as exhilarating as you remembered it, but at least you won’t be breaking yourself like a fool again.
All I know is that it’s such a perfect fall.