You Can’t Do That Anymore

Sitting in my wheelchair, on the edge of a trampoline mat, the same thought kept running through my head.  I want to jump.  Nah.  Yeah.  I want to jump.

With one final I want to jump, my mind took off with exhilarating memories of bouncing on trampolines and flying through the air.  Two things I enjoyed as a kid: swimming and jumping.  When small, personal trampolines first hit the market, I was right there in line to buy one.  For years, I enjoyed bouncing – tiny, little flights of gravity-defying moments.

All those memories were buried away deep in the past.  Until recently, when I took my grandson to an indoor trampoline park.  If you ever have the opportunity, go.

The indoor place near me has four separate areas.  Each one designed for a different purpose: freestyle, a basketball room, a dodgeball section, and a foam pit area.  You can even bounce off the walls!

As I sat there watching my grandson bounce, jump, and fly into the air, I felt intoxicated.  My body craved to fly.  I wanted to bounce, to lift my feet off the floor.  I wanted to defy gravity once again.  For a serious moment, I contemplated it.  For a very long, serious moment.

Then reality seeped into the crevices of my gray matter.   Do I have the core strength to bounce?  How uneven is the supporting edge?  Would I be able to get to the mat and back?  What if I fall?  No, better not try.  Maybe?  No.

I live in a new world, the world known as You Can’t Do That Anymore – But You Can Remember.

Some people advise us to forget the past.  They say it is best to live in the moment.  “The past is too painful,” they preach.  While I agree that living Right Here, Right Now is a healthy lifestyle choice, the past should not be forgotten.  Memories of how things were before we became disabled don’t have to be pushed away.  Our previous experiences add a richness to our lives.  Not only are there valuable lessons to be learned, but there are pleasures to be relived.

To reminisce and, once more, taste the pleasure of precious moments are treasures to be discovered.  Just like the unsolicited recall of an uncomplicated time in my childhood, we can choose to remember with joy – not pain or regret.

I may not be able to jump, but I can fly once more.