I fear that this will be too cryptic for some, and not nearly cryptic enough for others.

I apologize to both groups. This is just what I was thinking about, and I need to write it before I lose it in the blizzard of drivel that has swarmed in my head lately.

Almost five years ago, I watched people jump. A lot of us watched. Hell, most of the world watched, either as it happened, or through replay after replay after replay after replay.

One scene in particular sticks in my head. A man and a woman who jumped as one. Their hands clasped tightly together as they leaped from one certain fate into another.

I wonder, did they know each other, before that morning? Did they work together? Did they ever see each other in the hallways, or in the elevators? Or did they meet at that last possible moment, when the horrors around them led them both to that same conclusion? Did each of them reach out, at that terrible moment when death loomed behind and waited below them, did each of them reach out for one last touch from another human being, for one final bit of proof that no matter how terrible life can be, we don't have to go through it alone? Did they reach out then, and find each other, and gain comfort from each other's presence?

We're all faced with similar choices all the time. Will we let our troubles burn away at us until there's nothing left but ash? Will we become paralyzed with fear of the unknown? Or will we take that leap into the void? Will we take back our lives?

I like to think that I know what I'd have done. I like to think that I'd have jumped.

But this last time, this last time the courage eluded me. And, while I stood trembling on the ledge, she went ahead and jumped without me.

Good for her. She took back her life.

This entry deserved better than I could give it.