Wild Thing

I'm not exactly the out-doors type. Actually I'm not even a mow the grass type. But of course, I chose to marry Bear Grylls. This means that from time to time I must make my way into the great outdoors. Recently, we did just that. I have one word for you: Camping. This to me says: Bugs. To him this says: Fun. Needless, to say our ideals about this greatly differ. Despite my fear of the thousands of creepy crawlies that I will soon be sharing a bed with, I went. It's late and getting dark so we set up camp, s'mores over the fire- all is well. We went with friends and the next morning everyone is roaring to go "do" something. The something they choose is bridge jumping. Now to me, bridges are for walking or driving. NOT jumping off of. We arrive and everyone is all of the sudden dare devils. Here they go: back flips, swan dives and what looks like some very painful landings. No. Thank. You. But then something comes over me, must have been a lapse of judgement and I decide I'll jump too. I climb over the railing. Hello! A railing is there for a reason. I realize that half way over. Now I'm already over and so I just stand there and look. It is a looonnnnggg way down. I dream there is a huge float below me that I can fall into but then I open my eyes and still nothing. Just water. So my sister jumps and others.. now it must be my turn. I stand there for what felt like an hour. In all reality it was probably a minute. I step off. I'm pretty sure at that moment all my life flashed before my eyes: my husband, my family, the children I'll never get to have. BOOM! I hit the water and come back up. I'm alive!! And I'm not hurt. Amazing. Now that it's over, I'm glad I did it, but one time was more than enough. Maybe this is a story my children will like to hear.. or maybe it's just a story I'll tell myself from time to time when I want to remember that somewhere in me there is a wild side.