Life's playgrounds

            I’m not positive when the moment occurred that made me think any acrobatic ability remained in my bones.  Through a measure of agility shows up from time to time, it is usually slated for the most mundane of daily movements; walking, climbing into and out of bed, and the acrobatics you sometimes find yourself trying to master when trying to pick up an item that has fallen to the floor.  Not while on vacation and you have the hair-brained idea to see if you can still do a cartwheel. 

            Maybe it was the clean air and the crystal clear sky of Petersham in rural Western Massachusetts, the first leg of my vacation with friends that inspired such fantasy.  Whatever the inspiration, the gentle morning breeze began clearing out the city cockles of my mind and unleashing just enough voltage to trick me into believing that maybe I could pull this off.

            Within moments, I found myself kicking off my shoes, rolling upmy sleeves, and padding around a lush green lawn in contemplation. 

            I think I can, I think I can.

            Just what made me think I could is not something explanatory.  Maybe I just wanted to be a kid again.  Maybe I just wanted to ensure that the woman child residing in me was still alive and well.

            Would I break something?  Or, pull something?  Could I walk away and be content that the cartwheel I somewhat successfully pulled off slightly over ten years ago in a Montana meadowwould be my last?  It was serious decision-making time.  My fellow vacationers were out in front loading the car for the second leg of our vacation; Cape Cod and Nantucket Island. 

            And so, on a grassy knoll under the shade of a large beech tree, it was time to discover just how much, if any, acrobatic agility remained in my bones. 

            After a few deep breaths to muster courage, stretches for limbering, and visualization for success, I took the plunge.

            Disaster.

            Not one to give up easily, I tried again.  Visualizing helped, but I knew I’d need more than a technique to help this seasoned frame turn a cartwheel.  After several practice attempts it was time to step into sunny center stage of my backyard playground.

            Sometimes, you just have to give it what you’ve got, do the best you can, and see what happens.  A couple attempts weren’t half-bad, but nowhere near what would qualify as a bona-fide cartwheel.  Still, a semblence of reason won, and I knew it was time to stop.  Departing from center stage, I left with a sense of satisfaction and delight at the feel of the cool green grass under my feet.

            You would think walking with a slight limp the next day would cure anyone of silly antics on grassy knolls.  You would think.  If it weren’t for a playground next to The Church of the Redeemer, that my special friend, Harrison, and I happened upon during our time in Chatham, that might be the case.  We’d come out of the church and after walking through the gardens noticed the swings and slides off to the side. 

            Doesn’t everyone take a detour while on vacation to hop into a swing or zip down a slide?  Thankfully, neither requires major acrobatic agility.  All you need is a healthy dose of free spiritedness and the willingness to take advantage of life’s playgrounds.

            Untill next time...top blonde taking the day...