January 25, 2013
The Words of a Survivor
Skydiving seemed like it would be one of the most spectacular moments of my life at the age of sixteen.

It was spring time, March 20th. The air was thin, yet the sun still peered through the clouds in the morning. My father said I could do anything I wanted for my birthday. So why not take a chance of flying overseas to jump out of a perfectly stabled plane? Doesn’t sound too ridiculous...At least I thought.
Early in the afternoon my mother woke me. “I won’t be coming along on this trip. Happy sweet sixteen though Robin. I’ll just take you out shopping next time.” She kissed my forehead and held the door open for my dad and I. Later on, we arrived to our jumpers inviting smile.
“Welcome!” He said. “Before we go into the air, we have to go over a few things.” He walked over to a white board, writing his name in cursive. “My name is Flynn! To help you not be scared, I will be strapped onto your back to make sure you will land safely. Here are some things for you to remember.”

I looked at the board pondering what else there was too skydiving, rather than just simply diving... S...Squat. P...Pray. Pray?
“Excuse me, why is there the word, ‘pray?”

Flynn just smiled, it seemed like he would've gotten that question often. “I’ll explain. Squat, is your prep to jump. Pray, its the position you must be in. Next is L. You leap off the plane, just do not dive out doing a flip. A is ‘Ahh!”
“Ahh?”
“That’s the noise you're going to make jumping out of the plane! Lastly is t, touchdown.”

This doesn’t seem too hard. I re-quoted the words in my head, making it stick to my brain like a catchy tune. S.P.L.A.T.. Splat?

Flynn saw my facial expression. “Miss, what is your name?”

I looked up at him, forgetting that they never handed us name tags. We were the only people who had decided to skydive today. “My name is Robin.”

“Well Robin, it spells SPLAT. But you won’t splat. Don’t worry; our pilot is a good driver. You will be glad you came here today. It will be a blast!”

I appreciated his kindness and decided to go on. Before I knew it my dad took out his iPhone and asked to take pictures. He always loved to brag on Facebook like any other.

“It’s time to go.” says the pilot. He had gray hair and seemed weak. I began to judge Flynns words. Our pilot is a good driver. I sure liked to research about this amazing pilot before I could step onto the plane.
Two seats were placed on both sides; the door was large enough to shove out four people at once. My dad sat in the seat closest to the pilot. He strapped on the seat belt and smiled at me, like skydiving had been on his bucket list since sixteen.
As we took off, the jumper shouted over the plane telling us to strap on our parachute. My father decided it would be fun for him to jump out first, to show me that I didn’t need to be scared.
All the sudden, I hear the plane fainting away, everything faded into silence. My body feels like gravity suddenly becomes no problem. I look over at the pilot; head faced down, arms lay to the sides.
“ROBIN STRAP ON YOUR PARACHUTE NOW!”
Without hesitation, I shove my arms through the straps. Gripping the handle tight, I lean over the side of the plane. Flynn removed the pilot from his seat, taking his spot. Gripping the handles he pulled upward, trying to keep us from crashing into the ocean water.
Is this really happening? What will mother think if we don’t make it. ‘I should have convinced them to stay home.’ She’d say...

***********************************************************************************

“That’s when we dived underneath the cold dark sea. I managed to make it out of the plane. My father and Flynn hadn’t made it out in time. They focused on saving me from drowning with them. I gasped for fresh air when my head popped out of the forbidden pool of water. Nothing was in my site. The only thing I could think of at the time was my mother. Sitting at home near the fire, probably knitting a sweater for me. Home... So secured with fire, television in the background. The ocean seemed to be an empty place. With no noise, no nothing.”

“Robin that story is fantastic! This may be hard to remember.. But what was the first thing you could think of doing?” Says the hostess.
“Hope... That’s all I could think of. Hope someone would find me. Nobody had come looking for us, why would they? I thought I was going to die sooner or later. Sharks hear crashes, if not sharks, than any other cannibal would find me... I reached for my parachute, letting my body rest before I dived underwater to search for supplies.”
“Did you open your eyes underneath to see?”
“Of course... No other way to see. It burned badly, but I’d rather see for a moment then not see at all. Who knows what I could hit!?”
Bodies... I thought. Father’s body arose from to the top. Gentle floating. Lucky enough for me the raft was shoved underneath his arm. After everything that happened.. He thought of me first.
“..I found the supplies sooner or later. I managed to get on the raft. It seemed to be months of drifting wherever the sea wanted me to go. I poked at fish to not starve myself... You could imagine the disappointment of your only food for god knows how long slipping out of your hands, just so simply. The sun showed off my reflection in the water; not letting me see underneath for fish. The only thing that had any use to me in the supplies was a knife. Stabbing aimlessly underneath, I’d kill a fish from time to time.”
“Robin I am so sorry this all happened...” The hostess seemed intrigued with me. Staring me down with an awkward smile, her black hair fit perfectly with golden eyes that caught your attention. “What happened when the four fishermen found you?”
“The fishermen gave me a bottle of water. Tilting my head back, they checked my heart rate. The men drove towards shore once again, calling 911 for help. It have me such joy to know I was on land, to know I’d soon be OK again. All I could think of was mother...”

Mother. She’s gone now. Racing through the door she cried with tears of job. ‘My baby!’ She said. ‘Welcome home...’

“...Seems she was my strive to get home. My reason to keep hope... Before I had gotten pulled into emergency help, the four fishermen asked, ‘Miss, what is your name?...’