With a not-so-gentle shove, the guide sets her in motion.

As Emma’s feet leave terra firma, she whispers a prayer to whatever angels, gods, goddesses might be listening before offering a shriek to those same heavenly ears.

As soon as she realizes that this really is happening, and she really isn’t going to fall,  Emma’s shrieks turns to laughter. Somewhere, a monkey responds as Emma flies past leaves the size of her head.

She breathes in the heady, verdant scent of the Costa Rican forest, wanting to ingest every detail; to remember the feel of this always.

To remember the time she took flight.