After several lazy days on the beach watching parasailers in the distance, I knew it was time to cross that off of my bucket list. I asked my companions to join me.  One had never parasailed and assured me her status was not changing on this trip. A couple of them had parasailed in the ‘70s and remembered having to run down the beach to catch enough wind to be lifted off the ground. They were not really interested in revisiting the activity. 

It was Linda who was adventurous enough to agree to go with me.  We found an outfitter and made a reservation.  It was an absolutely incredible experience.  The captain of the boat – a hunky, bare-chested, twenty-something-year-old boy – boasted of sending his thrill seekers eight-hundred feet into the air.  I don’t know if we were actually that high, but I do know sailing above the gulf over the dark blue choppy waters teaming with life and death was one of the most calming and peaceful places I had ever been.  

My friend of a little less than a week was much more nervous than I was.  In fact, surprisingly, I wasn’t nervous at all.  Anyway, when we landed back on the deck of the boat, she kissed my cheek and said, “I love you.”  I think she was grateful to have survived. At that moment, Linda and I became friends for life.