so close

A 16-year-old gets a brand spanking new car. He wrecks it the next day, and his father buys him another one. I saw that too often in high school, and I hated it — but I was glad it was never me.
I can’t say I’m the world’s most patient person — in fact, I have the worst time being patient. Ask my mom. (Or better yet don’t, because she might not yet know what I’m about to do.) But I have to say that I’m a pro at learning about patience. It sneaks up on me in random places — like at a sky-diving joint in Stoke County.
I’ve wanted to go sky-diving for about five years. And today the dream was supposed to come true.
My brother-in-law asked me the night before if I was excited. My response — I try to have no expectations in these kinds of things. I try to keep my head clear so I don’t stay up all night thinking about what it might be like.
But after an hour of driving, a little getting lost, and arriving at a place that looked very similar to the scuba-diving shops on the Honduran islands, I was finally ready to let my mind go wild.
I sat down in the puke-green cushioned fold-out chair in the 8’ by 8’ room watching a video and signing my life away — Mom, you’re not allowed to sue if I die, OK?
I watched as others talked about their adventures. I looked at the pictures, letters and newspaper articles on the wall. I felt that excitement in my stomach grow, and suddenly it was like my water broke. I was ready. Nothing can stop me now. Get me in that jump suit. But on that harness, and let me fly.
But the damn storm clouds stopped my momentum. And I was told to just wait around for a while and see if they go away.
Wait? I have to wait. What does that mean? So I sit down at a red table outside and look at The Screwtape Letters I brought with me, not thinking I’d actually get to open them.
John, the pilot, sits down next to me. “Sometimes you just have to wait these things out — there’s not much else you can do.”
In Gena’s world, for the most part, I’m in control. Clouds, red lights, and meetings are all scheduled into the calendar I keep in my head. With as much stuff as I have going on in my life, I rarely have time to just sit down and chill out. I forget what that’s like.
Honduras brought that out of me. It taught me that I didn’t need to know every detail before planning a trip, or walking into a new situation — which really helps out in the line of work I’m in.
Patience patience go away, come back on a Sunday — maybe in May.
I enjoy listening to people’s stories, but they need to be scheduled in. This wasn’t part of the plan. John talks to me about his 25 years of piloting and his 29 years of jumping out of planes. But my mind can’t relax. I want to jump. I don’t want to sit. So John shows me the plane I’ll jump out of. I sit down and listen to him tell me what all the gadgets and buttons do. “Flying is fun. It keeps your brain engaged,” he says. He tells me if I ever take flying lessons, I’ll see a whole new dimension to life.
I wonder when I can sign up. But still in the back of my mind, I’m yelling at the stupid clouds for getting in my way. And then I yell at myself for not being more flexible and going with the flow. The skies start to open up and we see some bright blue. A little bait to see if I’ll bite. But then as more time passes, it’s the only blue showing, and I’ve got something else written on my list of things to do today. So I tell Tony, the owner, we’ll reschedule, and he apologizes.
“No worries, Tony.” You can’t control the weather, I think. And think some more. There is always a reason for that. As life is its own science project, there will always be dependent variables thrown my way. I heard a saying once that patience is like a tree with bitter roots but sweet fruit. I swear that bitterness is more memorable, but waiting for something I want so bad, only makes me appreciate it more. I know this for a fact. Hopefully the next 48 hours will awaken an appreciation for being as close as I’ve ever been to a dream come true.