Not all Gifts are Gold (short story)

“1…2…3…Go!” shouted the instructor. Carrie did not go.

“Stupid Roger,” she spat and stared into the yawning canyon ahead of her. “What made him think jumping off of a mountain would make a good anniversary gift? What about ten years says to him ‘fly through the air on an overgrown kite?’”

Carrie’s instructor, Shawn, said something about taking a second and then trying again.
She spotted Roger’s glider, a blue and red dot against the forested background. Her mind flashed back to their anniversary dinner. She spent weeks selecting a self-winding watch with the inscription “To Roger, Love Carrie” on the back. He gave the watch an obligatory glance before thrusting a rectangular box at her. It was wrapped in blue paper and wound with a white ribbon.

“Tiffany’s,” she squealed. He beamed. She carefully pulled off the ribbon, holding the unwrapped box reverently.

“Go on,” he urged, fidgeting in his chair.

Grandly she took off the lid to find … tickets.

“It’s all arranged. We go for a whole weekend. They do training flights on small hills and then the last day we solo off Dunbar Mountain. We get two solo flights each; it’s going to be so great!”

Carrie sat quietly in her chair. Her eyes read, but didn’t comprehend the words on the paper. “Hang gliding?” she mustered.

“Yeah, I wanted us to do something that would last forever.”

“Well, diamonds last forever and they won’t get you killed.”

“I knew you’d say that. I researched this school. Their safety record is superior. There’s no danger.”

He’s gone to a lot of effort, she thought. But hang gliding?

Her instructor brought her back to the present. “Are you ready, Mrs. Walker?”

“Roger hasn’t plummeted to his death yet, so I guess I’m ready.”

“You’ve already done this fifty times, Mrs. Walker. The process is exactly the same as on the training hills,” Shawn said in an annoyingly calm voice.

“The training hills weren’t over a thousand feet off the ground.” Shawn started to say something, but Carrie stopped him. “Okay,” she said, seriousness creeping over her features. “I’m ready.”

“1…2…3…Go!” Shawn shouted, again.


She willed her feet to move. Soon she was darting down the platform, her cumbersome equipment less of a burden than anticipated. One moment there was hard wood beneath her feet and the next … nothing. Her glider lost altitude. Carrie’s heart froze. Her instincts screamed for her to scramble back to the platform, Tom and Jerry style. But just as she began to wonder if Roger had taken out any new insurance policies, the glider caught wind and leveled off.

The ground did not rush to meet her, but sprawled out ready for examination. The mountain’s trees decked themselves in their fall finery: vermillion, orange, blazing red and million hues in between. In the distance, the fuzzy colored blobs gave way to flat green pastures or were they fields ready for harvest? The landscape dipped and folded; a rumpled quilt on an unmade bed.

Fear gave way to wonder as Carrie embraced the freedom from gravity. She tested her training, making minor adjustments to the equipment. Delighted with her new abilities, she veered left and used the wind to full benefit. “I’m a bird!” she whispered. “Lovely Roger, I’ve never had a better gift.”