Remember when you were like eight? And your friends convinced you to join the big boys and jump off the high dive at the public pool? Yeah, this is just like that.

Right now I’m standing in that line at the high dive.

Some of the people in line at the high dive have dry suits on, like me. Others are already dripping with parenthood. The fact that the wet ones are confidently heading back up there is only mildly encouraging.

I do know it’s going to be totally fine. I know that all kinds of people have felt exactly the same way before me and have walked the plank and lived to tell about it. I know I couldn’t be making the trip up the ladder with a better person.

Despite this, I still slightly dread that weird pit in the stomach on the way down - you know, when it seems like you’ve been falling forever?

This time it’s kind of the opposite. The drop could take 25 years. And it could feel like an instant.

Maybe not from this high up, but I’ve taken leaps before, and I’ve learned a few things. One is that with the right amount of faith in the right places, things usually go swimmingly.

So I’ve resolved. This time I’m not going to close my eyes as I leap. I’m not going to allow myself to focus solely on getting into the water.

This time, I’m going to make sure I enjoy that feeling on the way down. Hell, maybe I’ll sneak in a couple of somersaults.

Posted with permission from Dad or Bust

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