And there was evening, and there was morning, another day. Yes, it feels good to jump, but yes it feels bad to jump. One is always better than the other, when it comes to choices, we suppose. The sheer, public full honesty of the dilemma, the horns of the dilemma, is something we adults somehow learn or manage to disguise. She had it right, though, both ways, didn’t she? Yes, it would feel good to jump and yes, it would not feel good to jump. She went up the hill dry and warm, but unsuccessful and downcast, her fear mollified but her hope deferred. Finally, she negotiated an end to the hostilities by deciding to wait until the next day. So since that light moistening didn’t work she asked to go down into the water to submerge in full, and be all wet before the jump. Then she asked to take a moment to go down into the water, wading, to get her feet wet, and to get herself wet before the jump. So, she paused, she pondered, she hesitated, she equivocated, she moved left and right. She longed to proceed as others had but she feared the pain, the jolt, the cold of the water. She had some hope, but it had a cousin called fear. She wanted to jump but she feared the cold. The air was warm but the water was cold, she knew, from wading earlier. Since her cousins and sister had already jumped into the cold lake, right off the end of the dock, Jane too headed that way.
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