Your choice, he says. The Toyota idles for a moment while I contemplate left or right. Left? Or right?




            I watched from under a tree, his curls fly through the wind as he swan dives beautifully into the calm lake. The bridge is clearly marked “No jumping or diving” marked as a huge teaser to us because he knows it’s deep enough to survive the drop.

            As he climbs out refreshed from the shock of cold he looks at me; alright, you wanna jump? I’m terrified, Come on, I’ll go with you. I’m sweaty and hot and sticky from a day of work, my curls are piled on top of my head in a dready mess that I’ve been ignoring for weeks. What the fuck, let’s do this. I take off my shirt, free my hair and walk nervously to the bridge, why not?


Break a law every day.


            Rocks to the right and sand to the left—stay center. He gets a running start as I climb on the edge and shut my brain off for a moment. I hold my breath and jump. I scream and take another breath before I hit the water. Shocked by the cold and I scream full of exhilaration as I pop to the surface.


Let go everyday.




Right = home, chores, shower, the end of the weekend.

Left = that bridge. That damn bridge that terrified me all while making me feel alive.




We got time, the wheels screech as I turn left out of the drive.







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