Jumping Out of Planes

I will never forget the moment I jumped out of a perfectly functioning plane. This was a few years ago, mind you, but it is just simply one of those memories that follows you for forever. Strapped to a man named Papa  Dop. He asked me repeatedly as the rinky-dink plane climbed into the sky: "Are you alright? Are you ready to do this?" I was excited, nervous. I looked over at my best friend and she just grinned. We got this! There were a few mental high-fives traded for sure.

When it was our turn, someone slid the door open and I was ushered to stand on the edge, thousands and thousands of miles above Honolulu. A part of me was screaming inside: THIS IS SO AWESOME! The other half was wishing I had written a will before making this trip. Papa Dop told me not to look down, said I would freak. So of course I looked down but surprisingly, my fear left me. I revelled in the beauty below, how the electric blue of the ocean just exploded beneath me. I sensed my insignificance, just an ant really. Jumping out of a plane. But I was one fearless ant. And with eyes wide open I took that step...

Fast forward a few years later and here I am, standing in the doorway of that plane. Taking that first step towards something terrifying, different but so amazing. I turned my paperwork in this past week, stating my intent to leave the Navy. Well-meaning people counseled me to "really think this over" and that they hoped I wasn't making a mistake.

Personally? My mistake would be in staying. I know that to my core. Which is why I simply nodded, said thank you and went about my merry way. Because sure I could have decided to stay in the Navy, just like I could have decided to stay on the plane or heck, stayed on the ground.  But who knows what I might be missing out if I do, if I don't take that leap of faith?