Flying

As I ran to the edge, I sucked in all my breath.
And then, as if there was an airbag pushing me back, I stopped and teetered.
Do I really want to do this?
To late.
I fell.
The crisp wind wooshed between my toes and through my hair and wrapped around me like a security blanket of cold.
That was when I felt the ground leave, as if it had crumbled into thin air.
That loss of safety made a chill run up my spine.
I was falling.
I whisked through the air and dipped and dived and twirled and flipped and spun and twisted into so many random shapes I felt like a pretzel.
And then, as I spiraled downward, I finally hit the cool water underneath me with the tips of my toes and the last of the wind stung my cheeks before I plunged below the waters surface.
I realized that I hadn't been falling. I had been flying.
And then my eyes popped open. I was warm safe and sound, snuggled inder my covers with the pure, golden sunlight I love shining down on me.

Night Water

The crystal water looked so bright in the crisp moonlight. So perfectly clear you could see the pebbles dancing with the shallow waves that were lapping at the shore. Small fish that were colorful in the afternoon sun had their brightness washed away by the pale moon, becoming just nondescript moving objects. At the time I was focused on the sky, though, so black it looked like it was sleeping, nestled in a dark blanket. I ran my hand through the water, and the cold sort of shocked me, sending an electrifying shiver through my body, as if the cool night had dissolved into the water giving it that defining chill. I dragged a finger across the warm sand. It took the bite out of the frigid water that was left clinging to my hand like little drops of glue. Ahhh. All was better.