Flight

It's been rather windy recently, a chilly breeze from the north.  And whenever I happen to be walking into the wind, apart from leaning into it by what feels like more than 20 degrees, I can't help but hold out my arms like wings.  My sweater flaps at the arms and waist, and I swear I'm about to take off.  Oh, flight.  What a blissful sensation.  Even just jumping has a moment of suspended animation.  The world slows to a snail's pace, and all that exists is the jump.  And then, in the blink of an eye, the moment disappears with the jolt of landing.  But the feeling stays with me afterward, the residue of the jump.  And the wind makes it even better.  The whooshing in my ears makes it seem like I am flying unimaginably fast, covering miles in the blink of an eye.  A moment or two of utter freedom, isolated from the physical constraints of real life.
What must it be like to be a skydiver, to have a few minutes of this sensation, freefall without constraints.  The roaring of air as you cut through it at over a hundred miles an hour.  The ability to almost swim through the air, maneuvering using air resistance, feeling the speed of the air changing as you have more or less surface area on the way down... Oh, joy.  And then the incredible jolt as you unfurl your parachute and slow to a crawl (if you can crawl through air), coming to a gentle landing on good old Earth.  Thrilling and terrifying at the same time.
Even a ski jumper must have a similar feeling, twisting and slicing through the air on the way to a perfectly solid landing on both skis, with a puff of snow on landing.  Freedom from the usual rules of physics, the ones we have to adhere to in everyday life.  Joy.

Windy days and the joy of flight. :)