On the Edge

A stupid thing I did that I would never undo.

So, there I was, age thirteen, standing at the very edge of one of the cliffs West of San Francisco overlooking the Pacific. I was looking almost straight down at the water and rocks. I had been exploring the Presidio, a now extinct military base bordering what was then the world’s best city and my home at the time. My exploration took me here there and everywhere in the Presidio, a fascinating place for a thirteen-year-old kid. 

A rather foolish kid.

I stood there, on the edge, hypnotized by the view…water water everywhere…and the rocks…far below.

There was a gusty wind blowing in from the sea, and I wondered…how does a kite feel?. I was wearing an old nylon windbreaker jacket, and, unexplainably, I gripped the edges of the windbreaker and eased my arms out so that the jacket could catch the wind, like a sail…or a kite.

I leaned forward slightly. The wind pushed back.

I leaned a bit more. Still okay, the wind held me up.

Then, foolishness. I leaned past the point of no return.

One second. 

Three seconds. 

Maybe ten seconds. Then I eased back to safety.

Foolhardy? Yes, of course. But I can’t find it within myself to wish I hadn’t done it. It was exhilarating. It was transcendent.

I was on the edge, and I loved it.