The tingling sensation of excitement, as one anticipates the unknown, is both terrifying and electrifying. Life is full of such moments. It is in every bend of the river of life. It is in every time we choose to step out of our comfort zone and face the unknown. It is my first day in college. I am only 15 years old. I sit in the middle of class with that tingling anticipation.
My grandparents were missionaries in Quezon, a town on the island of Palawan. My grandparents lived near a river. Initially, there was no way to get across except by boat, so my grandfather built a metal hanging bridge connecting one side of the river to the other. It was strong and wide enough for a motorcycle to get across safely. Years later a new bridge was made. The new bridge was wider, stronger, and more accessible. The old bridge was forgotten. It was poorly maintained and a hole in the middle of the bridge formed. No repairs were made. The hole grew bigger and the bridge continued to deteriorate.

Every summer my brother, cousin, and I would visit our grandparents. During our visits the smell of wild flowers seemed to intoxicate us. We would run around wild all day and return for supper in the evenings. Our time in Quezon was always magical.

Summer, I woke up to a sweet, sunny morning. I tumbled out of bed and lay on the cold wooden floor for a few minutes. Then I heard laughter from downstairs as everyone in the house made plans for the day. I picked myself up and got dressed. My brother, Sean, and cousin, Ken, soon arrived in my room. After breakfast we went fishing. We sat under the new bridge and talked for hours. Out of nowhere we got the brilliant idea of visiting the other side of the river via the hanging bridge. We made our way to the foot of the bridge. Each one of us lightly stepped onto the bridge and made our way to the middle. The bridge creaked with every step we took. Sean made it to the middle and jumped across the gaping hole. Ken followed. I felt like fear was getting the better of me. A cold bead of sweat formed on my brow as I prepared to jump. If I was not able to jump across I would, at least, fall into the water. The river seemed a lot farther down than I remembered. I turned around. I could still go back. I looked in front of me and closed my eyes.

Life is full of moments such as the one on the hanging bridge. The other side of the river is the same whether or not one takes the hanging bridge or the new bridge. It is not about the destination as much as it is about the path we take. College is not so much about the diploma as much as it is about the things we learn. The diploma is just proof that we went through the journey. It is the journey that truly matters. I looked at the gaping hole then at my brother and cousin. And with eyes wide open I jumped.