The free-fall was long and terrifying, and the entire time I was falling I couldn't take my eyes off the behemoth rocks littered around the base. They were everywhere and I didn't know how to avoid them, seeing that I had no control over where I might land. And then it occurred to me that even if I landed safely, the boat might smash to smithereens with my husband and kids on board. All I could do was hope. So I squeezed my eyes shut. And I hung on to hope. And I braced myself for impact. And somehow, I missed those rocks. I missed them all. Instead, I plunged deep into the water. So deep, in fact that I wasn't sure if I'd be able to come up for air. But somehow I managed. And when I broke the surface of the water, gasping for air and rejoicing that I'd made it unscathed, I noticed that, against all odds, the ship had landed safely too. It sat, herculean and majestic, rocking gently back and forth in a quiet pool. I threw my head back and laughed out loud, unable to contain the wild grin that split my face.
You think this means it's all going to be OK in the end?