The pitter pat of feet against the boardwalk fills my ears along with the splashing sound of the water underneath us. “Ouch!” I mutter, wincing every now and then as my big toe meets with nails sticking out of extra wood. However, I notice none of this, all I can think about is my heart, pounding against my ribcage, and how in less than a minute my feet would be decamping the bridge rail and I’d be plummeting into the lurking water below.

I glance around and all I see is beauty, after all, this is Cape Cod. The sun sits peacefully, without clouds, shining down on the blue water and the rich brown mud banks. Later, it will melt into the sky, transforming the beach into a Van Gogh painting. With the sun sitting confidently in the sky, and the water a gorgeous shade of blue, it appears to be a perfect day to jump, I think to myself, but I know I’m just trying to convince myself to go through with the idea.

We walk by people crabbing, and watch as crabs scuttle to cling onto the meat, unaware that they are racing only to be pulled up out of their home, their livelihood. ‘Why are you nervous,’ I scolded myself, ‘you’ve jumped before.’ Which is true, I have. Today will be different, though. Because today, I am jumping off the rail.

When you walk along the boardwalk in Cape Cod, you’ll pass water, you’ll pass crabbing areas, some mud banks maybe. Eventually, it will merge into a bridge. Not a huge one, like the Golden Gate bridge, but a moderate one, a good 15 feet above the water. The bridge contains a platform, which most jump off of, and then a few feet higher there’s a rail, which for the first time ever, I am jumping off.

I remember whenever I would jump in the past years, my dad would jump off the rail. I would always watch him, thinking to myself about how crazy he is, it would be so easy to fall! But at the same time I was excited, excited for when the day would come when I jumped off the rail too! Well, now it’s finally here and there’s no way I’m chickening out.

I look up at my cousins, Chels and C. I am jumping with them, even though they aren’t nearly as worried as me. They’re both basically adults now, they’ve been doing things like this for most of their life. Behind us, my Aunt J walks with the rest of my family. She’s not jumping, but I’m pretty sure she’s just as nervous about me jumping as I am, if not more. She is constantly at my side, as if we are glued together, and her hands are grazing my shoulders in order to make sure I don’t trip, even before we’ve reached the bridge.

We reach the bridge, and as we stroll along it someone jumps, spraying us with an ice cold mist, and my stomach ties itself in a knot. As we find ourselves more towards the center of the bridge, the wood becomes damp and the kids become raucous, and I have to carry myself with a teeny bit more caution.

Chels and C climb up onto the rail first, with extreme ease. “Come on, E, I’ll give you a hand!” Chels says, offering her arm. My heart dancing in my chest, I swing a leg over the rail and push up with the other one, finding myself in a squatted position on the rail. As I slowly stand up my stomach leaps and my Aunt J stands behind me with her hands on my back, so I won’t fall backwards. I stare down at the water, and it feels like every second I don’t jump it gets darker and deeper, as if it’s staring up at me, just daring me to jump. I think back to jumping last year. It seemed so much shallower, and warmer. Overall it seemed a lot easier last year, but then again, I has been jumping off the platform. but Chels squeezes my hand, “You can count down E.” My voice quivering, I mumble, “3.. 2.. 1… JUMP!”

I screech a shrill, piercing sound as I plunge into the water. It feels as if millions of tiny icicles are surrounding me and grazing me with their freezing sharps ends. I push myself upward, inhaling the fresh air as I surface. Although I’m not swimming yet, my arms and legs are moving at a rapid pace, trying to keep myself warm, however it doesn’t seem to be working. I feel like water is seeping into my body, keeping me frozen my my insides to out.

Chels and C are starting to float and swim back to the beach, so I dunk my head back under and swim over, hoping this will heat my body at least a little. I love the feeling of flying and gliding when you swim, the thought that you’re swimming and sliding through a liquid, the feeling of your hair flying backwards behind you as if a plethora of water molecules are trying to grasp your hair, and hold you back from leaving the ocean, and the water wrapping  tightly around you like you’re the chicken in a flour burrito. Repeating this procedure over and over, I can feel my insides becoming a tiny bit warmer. My skin still feels frosty, but I know this will change as soon as we get out of the water and onto the sand.

As we reach the beach, I feel a sort of achievement. I look back at the bridge and my smile becomes just a little bigger. I jumped off the rail! As we step onto the beach and my feet hit the golden, burning, sand, for a second they hunger for the freezing temperatures of the water, but the rest of my body relaxes in relief, already feeling the difference in the temperature.

   We spend the rest of the day on the beach, using our sweet lime and blue raspberry icies to cool us off instead of the water. It goes by fast, and before I know it it’s time to leave. I look back on the beach. The sun has dropped from the sky, to the point where it looks like it is nesting in the trees. It’s colors spread across the sky as easily as paint, creating a pink and orange collage. The water shallows, showing off the mud banks with their rich burgundy color and dark green plants, and without the mud mixing with it, the water turns a beautiful shade of blue.

“E, come on,” my brothers whine, “we’re going to Seafood Sams and if you don’t hurry we’re leaving without you!” While I begin to run towards them, I focus on trying to take mental pictures while I still can. Gazing around the beach, I start thinking, I wish I never had to leave, this has turned out to be one of the best days ever.