Lake Muskoka, ON

Light rays danced across the tips of the waves as they rose and fell out as far as I could see. I stood on the roof of my boathouse, trying to do something that had eluded me for 2 days of trying. I was seven years old and according to cottage rules just eligible to jump off the boathouse. It was something I had been dreaming of ever since I could remember, longing to fly through the air even if it was just for a few seconds. I was standing there, with everyone in my family below: grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, my brother, and my parents. All of them were cheering, pleading me to jump. Finally it was getting dark and the crowd began to go up for dinner urging me to come as well and consoling me that I would get it next time. Once they all had gone up, I took one last long look out across the water and just stepped forward. The rush that I felt when I was going down into the water was unbelievable. I hit the bottom of the lake and hurt my ankle, but I didn't care. I had done it!