In the summer he could not help but stare out from that little wannabe port. He would stare and the water, just wanting to dive in forever. All it would take was that one jump. The one jump he had been trying to take since he was a little boy. That one jump his dad made before him. The one his father’s father made, and everyone in his family. The rite of passage. Such an outdated tradition, but one that meant so much to him.