“Want to go skydiving with us?” My nineteen and twenty-three-year-old stepsons, Max and Xander asked eagerly.

“Sure,” I said without even thinking. The question felt like a test, and I was determined not to fail. I aspired to be the cool stepmother in her late fifties, always up for an adventure, even skydiving.

These young men became part of my world only four years ago because I discovered my soulmate later in life. I had once set firm boundaries for myself. There were three things I’d never do: marry a man who lived in the suburbs, own a pet dog, and become a stepmother. Yet, with Michael, I embraced all three. But I was aware of the potential pitfalls—what if his sons resented me or opposed our relationship?

When Michael mentioned his two sons, I felt apprehensive. But once I met them, their maturity impressed me. They were not typical sixteen and twenty-year-olds. Max even labeled me as “cool,” a compliment none of his father’s previous girlfriends had received. On our first shared Christmas, they gave me a cat-themed shirt because I love felines. I could not detect any resentment as we sat around the Christmas dinner table eating way too much food.

When Michael proposed, they both seemed excited. Max encouraged us to marry soon, asking, “Why wait?” Covid derailed our initial wedding plans, so we all moved in together. This change made me anxious. How would they feel about living together? They were splitting their time between us and their mother. One day, I found Xander in the kitchen with a thoughtful look on his face.

“You know, this kitchen is a perfect place to make my famous blueberry pancakes,” Xander said.

Max also weighed in. “This place is great. I love having my own room.”

After we settled in, I adored our evenings, where we feasted on Michael’s cooking, talking about mundane things. Post-dinner games became our ritual, with Xander introducing me to Yahtzee and Rummikub. I’d been hesitant to play, but he loved games and would painstakingly explain the rules. He must have been an outstanding teacher, because I soon excelled.

Fast forward to our wedding day. I watched their faces, searching for any signs of hesitance or discontent. I saw none. Xander stood by my side during the ceremony, while Max stood by his father. At the end of the reception, the four of us held hands in a circle and danced to the last song of the evening. My heart swelled with happiness.

Yet, you never know about the future, about developing feelings and dynamics. Committing to this family felt much like the leap I was about to make from an airplane—venturing into the unknown, hoping for the best.

The day we drove to the skydiving center, anxiety wreaked havoc on my stomach. Michael had opted out; the mere thought of us jumping out of a plane was too overwhelming for him to watch. I wondered whether this was a good idea after all. But fate intervened. Our skydiving plans for the day were dashed because of strong winds.

Nearly a year later, Xander and Max found a date that worked for all of us and booked a time. Once more, I found myself on the way to the skydiving site. But this time, the skies were clear, and the winds were calm. It was a bright, beautiful day. As soon as we arrived, we signed a form and then watched a training video.

The video started with a man sporting a Rip-Van Winkle beard, who introduced himself as the inventor of modern skydiving equipment. He looked stern as he faced the camera. “There is no such thing as a perfect parachute, no such thing as a perfect plane, no such thing as a perfect tandem partner. You could be hurt or even die because of this activity.”

Max snickered, and Xander chuckled. My stomach knotted up and my chest tightened. This might have been a terrible idea.

The bearded man continued, “The form you signed states you will not sue us in the event of your injury or death.”

When the video finished, we made our way into an enormous hangar to wait for our tandem partners to arrive. Well, at least we weren’t going alone; these tandem instructors would be strapped to our backs when we jumped out of the plane. They would guide us from start to finish.

A short man in his mid-fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair, greeted me with a broad smile, “Anne? I’m Tim. Are you ready to go skydiving today?”

“Absolutely!” I responded, trying to sound enthusiastic.

Tim helped me into a harness that circled my legs and arms. After tightening the straps, he fastened an altimeter to my left hand, explaining, “Look at this every so often after we jump. When we get to 5,500 feet, use your right hand to pull the orange ball behind you. It deploys the parachute.”

I nodded nervously, “Okay. By the way, how high are we going?”

“13,000 feet—two and a half miles up,” Tim declared, high-fiving me; “We’re going to have so much fun.” Max, towering at six-foot-four and tipping the scales at 245 pounds, was matched with Ginger, who was noticeably half his size. Xander, with his lean frame standing at six feet two, was paired with a tandem partner who mirrored my height of five-foot-four. I took a moment to admire my handsome sons. Both sported blonde hair, but Max’s was curly while Xander’s was straight. Scanning Xander’s clear blue eyes for anxiety, I found none. Max’s warm hazel eyes sparkled with excitement.

“You guys nervous at all?” I asked.

“No way,” Xander said.

Within minutes, we walked out to the tarmac to wait for the plane. I remembered that I could back out at any point. Even right before leaping out. I calmed myself, knowing that I could abandon this jump at any moment.

Max, Xander, and I sat on benches waiting for the plane as Xander’s tandem instructor announced, “They decided Mom is going first!”

“First?” I echoed, glancing at them. They grinned, and both nodded. “Okay, first!” I said, trying to project confidence. We all climbed into a small plane with no seats—just a thick gym mat on the floor. It barely fit the eleven people who climbed aboard. I sat between Tim’s legs. Seven individuals in front of us planned to jump solo. Within minutes, we took off. I looked behind me at Max and Xander. They were quiet; maybe they were also nervous. I turned to Tim. “So, I land with my feet out, right?”

“Don’t worry about that until we’re closer to the ground.”

As someone who likes to plan, I found this answer less than reassuring. There was an opening on the right side of the plane, covered by a lightweight plastic door that looked flimsy. It appeared as if leaning against it might cause one to fall out. I repeated a mantra to myself: I can do this.

At around 6,000 feet, I peered out the window. Everything below was in miniature. This was the altitude to pull the cord, yet we had another 7,000 feet to climb. Doubt crept in. What if I couldn’t be this brave? What would Max and Xander think of me if I chose not to jump?

My ears popped, and my hearing dulled as we reached 13,000 feet. The solo jumpers eagerly pulled open the plastic door and leaped out with huge smiles on their faces. One woman leaped sideways as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

Tim connected his harness to mine, so his front was to my back. There was little space between us. I’d never been that close to a man I wasn’t romantically involved with. Then he maneuvered me toward the front of the plane. My mouth suddenly felt dry, and my hands shook. As I was about to say, “I don’t think I’m up for this,” he nudged my legs forward, and suddenly, I was in midair. The temperature was freezing. Despite my long pants and sweatshirt, the cold cut through me. The air rushed past, muffling my hearing.

The plane receded above us as we tumbled through the sky. All I wanted was to be back on the ground. Now. Eventually, we stabilized, and the horizon came into view. I stretched my arms out and forced a smile. Then Tim gestured for me to arch my back and bend my legs behind me as if kneeling. We were moving fast, but the ground felt far away. All I could think was, when will this be over?

When we hit 5,500 feet, I pulled the orange ball, and the parachute billowed open. Suddenly, we shifted from horizontal to vertical, as if someone had slammed on the brakes. We were suspended in midair, the rush of wind around us ceased, and the harness bit into my legs.

“Do you like rollercoasters, Anne?” Tim asked.

“Nope. I do not.”

“In that case, we’ll just enjoy a relaxed ride down.” Tim guided my hands to two handles above my head, and we veered left, then right. I marveled at the landscape below, stretched out in a panorama of sprawling fields, buildings, a river, and roads.

“This view is breathtakingly beautiful,” I said.

“Indeed. I do ten to fifteen jumps every weekend, and I never tire of it,” he responded.

It seemed like we were hanging up there for hours, just meandering across the sky. Tim pointed out my sons. Max was below me, while Xander hovered above. We were tiny creatures suspended above this vast expanse that stretched out endlessly. Yet it felt as though we were undertaking a monumental feat.

After a few minutes, Tim announced it was time to land. I found it hard to believe, considering our tremendous height. Everything below still seemed minuscule. “When we land, extend your legs out, and we’ll settle on our behinds,” Tim instructed. Eventually, we began our descent toward a field. I raised my feet, and we both touched the ground, landing lightly on our bottoms.

Suddenly, standing seemed like a daunting task. A wave of heat spread through my body, making its way to my face. I took a couple of minutes to stand.

Max was already on the ground, and Xander was just landing. Shortly after, we all came together and hugged. “We did it! We went skydiving!” I said proudly.

“That was amazing!” Xander exclaimed.

“Were you afraid at all?” I asked.

“Yes, my hands were sweating as soon as we got onto the plane,” Xander admitted.

“I screamed the entire way down,” Max said, laughing.

We all agreed that our fear was the greatest right before the jump. “I just can’t believe we did that! I can’t believe I agreed to do that,” I said, smiling.

“You know, we didn’t even have to encourage you to go,” Xander said. “You just said yes when we asked you the first time.”

It felt like a tremendous compliment. And I took it. “Well, I’m so thrilled we did this together. What an experience we’ve shared,” I said.

Later, the magnitude of the day’s events hit me. Skydiving had been more than just trying to be the cool stepmom. It was about stepping out of my comfort zone and fully embracing life. It was about saying ‘yes’ to things that appear frightening, but that could be tremendously fulfilling. And if not for Max and Xander, I wouldn’t have had this experience. They had pushed me to try several new things. They had insisted we go white-water rafting the summer before, learn how to play new games, and now try skydiving. And in their own way, they encouraged me to remarry and to become a stepmom again. They made it possible to create a wonderful family.

On the most recent Mother’s Day, they surprised me with a card. The outside of it said, “A Mom is someone who cares and helps and loves.” When I opened it, the handwriting read, “Thanks for being such an important part of our life. We’re so glad you married Dad. You are so supportive of us, and that means a lot. Happy Mother’s Day.”

Their gesture overwhelmed me, bringing tears to my eyes. I’m so proud to call Max and Xander my sons, and I’m so glad I became a part of this family.

 

Anne E. Beall is an award-winning nonfiction author. Her creative nonfiction has appeared in literary journals such as Minerva Rising and The Raven’s Perch. With a PhD in psychology from Yale, her writing explores the psychology of relationships. She is the founder and editor of Chicago Story Press Literary Journal.