Rejection Slips and Rewrites

           “Jump!”

I look down and my toes start to curl around the edge of the rock I’m standing on as if trying to hold on and say: No way. It is a long way down.

“Come on, at the count of three ha!”

My friends, all five of them, already took the plunge and they were trying to egg me on, their cheers echoing inside the cave walls. I check my life vest for the nth time, making sure that everything is in place, that it was secure.

We go out of town every summer. We’re backpacking in the Northern part of the country this year. We were in Bolinao just yesterday. Tonight we’re heading off to Baguio. Right now, I’m standing inside a cave on Marcos Island, one of the Hundred Isles in Alaminos, Pangasinan. The only way out of the cave is to jump, 20 feet of free fall, into the pool of emerald water below.

Why do we always end up doing some kind of risky activity each time we go on vacation? I don’t know why my friends have this penchant for trying out new (and dangerous) experiences like zip lining, canyon swings, and helmet diving. I try to avoid these activities. When I absolutely have no choice, I dawdle when it’s my turn, like what I’m doing now. It takes loads of cheering and reassurance that everything will be okay before I’d be convinced to get it done and over with.

I’m twenty six now and it’s a shame that I’ve lost my childlike wonder. I wasn’t like this in my teenage years. I used to climb mountains. I’ve rock climbed Mt. Batulao’s old trail without any rope for support when I was 18. I used to surf, too. I go up our roof and lie down on it just because I can. When I turned twenty, everything changed. I stopped hiking because I worry about slipping into a cliff and be left for dead. I don’t surf anymore. What would happen to me if there’s suddenly a tsunami? And I wonder why the hell I go up on the roof anyway. I became scared of adventure and I don’t know why. Really, I don’t know.

At this very moment, of course, I’m scared. Of what? Of heights? Water? Caves? No. I’m scared that everything might go wrong -like if I jump, what if my head hits a rock? Or if my life vest doesn’t work? Or if I forget how to swim? I guess as you age, you start to become more paranoid thus you tend to choose the “safe” route and avoid anything that might put your life in peril before you’ve accomplished all the things you dream of. Or maybe, I am just being a coward, plain and simple.

“Talon na. At the count of three ha!”

As my friends start to count, I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and utter a silent prayer. Well, not really a prayer but more of a question: “Lord, oras ko na ba?”

I hear my friends shout. “One, two –“

I don’t wait for three and just jump.

*Verdict: IN but needs an overhaul.