Chasing Magic

I’m terrified of heights. In college, during a mandatory ropes course challenge, I climbed 30 feet up a pole before I froze. The panic set in. I wrapped myself tighter as my heart pounded against the walls of my chest. “Jump, Frances. Jump,” the instructor and all my classmates yelled. I was harnessed to a rope, but I couldn’t move. When I realized the only way down was up, I closed my eyes, said our Lords prayer and let go. I landed safely, of course. But, I was ashamed. I couldn’t climb the pole. My fear had overtaken me.

Living in fear isn’t anything new for me. And sadly, it’s not limited to heights. Being a woman raised by a single mother, I was always taught to be cautious of my surroundings. Traveling alone, going out late at night, even something as innocent as drinking a glass of water could pose a threat to my well-being. Danger was everywhere.

So, it’s not surprising that I didn’t take many risks growing up. I tried to be home before dark. I told my friends who I was meeting anytime I went on a date. I checked my doors and windows to ensure they were locked before going to bed. Then I would check them again. Just to be safe.

I’m glad that I was raised to be cautious. But, I’m not glad to live in fear. And fear was holding me back.

Ever since I was a little girl, I would stare in wonder at the hot air balloons that floated across the valley. I always dreamed of soaring among the clouds. How special to fly in a hot air balloon.

My grandmother rode a hot air balloon once. She told me it was magical. And I wanted to experience some magic. Someday, I told myself. But of course, that day never came.

While the wonder and magic of a hot air balloon appealed to me, the practical details terrified me . What if the balloon flew too high? What if it caught on fire? What if I fell out? It seemed much too risky. Something I would do, one day. Maybe. When I’m older.

And what a funny thing, to get older. To evaluate your life in the past tense. To realize that someday is now. Or it could never be. Work had been unrelenting. The deadlines had piled up. Life still hadn’t returned to normal from the pandemic. And I really wanted to capture a bit of magic.

I made the decision hastily. I booked a bed and breakfast in Napa to make my 6 a.m. hot air balloon reservation. I packed in excitement, ready for a new adventure. And I worried. The weather was changing. The flight could get canceled an hour before takeoff. Many unknowns awaited me. None of them seemed good.

I called the hot air balloon hotline at 5 a.m. No update. Same at 5:02 and 5:03. At 5:08 the recording said we were clear for takeoff. The flight was a go. And so was the rain.

Our pilots drove us from Napa to Pope Valley. I had almost an hour to think of the impending doom that lay ahead. Surely, the fog can’t be easy to fly through. Rain can damage the balloon. How was this going to be safe?

And as we drove through winding hills among vineyards wrapped in mist, the fog gave way to beautiful clear skies. The sun was shining. We drove straight to the balloons, and they were magnificent. I watched in amazement as they lit the fires and the balloons rose high. My childhood dream was about to come true.

I jumped into the basket. I hurt my knee. I took selfies. And then I realized, I was about to face death. My fear was taking over. All excitement was lost. I wanted out.

“You’ll still be charged if you don’t fly,” the attendant told me. “That’s okay,” I said. “I’m not sure I can do this.” “Really?” the attendant replied. “You can get out, but I think you’ll enjoy it. Just don’t look down.” And before I could respond, the basket was rising. We were in flight. There was no turning back.

As we lifted above the ground, higher and higher, my breath got shorter. My heart rate grew faster. The panic was palpable. There was nowhere to go. Then I reminded myself to not to look down. So, I looked up.

I could see the sun beaming across the valley floor. The fog nestled between the mountains. The other balloons crossing the valley. I felt the breeze blow against my hair. The fire warm my cheeks.

And as I stood there, amidst the stillness, my fears started to float away. I unclenched my fist. I let go of the handles. I looked across the valley with a bird’s eye view. I took in my surroundings. And, for the first time, I found peace.