The other day, an old friend brought back memories of my childhood. I was never very athletic, but I was really into bar routines on the playground. I could do all sorts of tricks. The backs of my knees were always bruised and my hands were so calloused I wondered if they'd ever be smooth again. Sometimes we'd make up routines to do side-by-side on the big bar, but I was a little late to this because I couldn't do cherry drops, or the more risky death drop, as soon as my friends could. But there was usually someone to help me do a lemon drop (a cherry drop where someone holds your hands as you land) and my more talented friends inspired me to learn to do it on my own. I remember practicing and practicing in my own backyard, until it was dark outside. It took a lot of guts to let go, to unhook my knees and fly through the air to land on my feet. There were plenty of times I didn't land on my feet, as I recall! But I kept trying. I remember at first I didn't quite get both legs off at the same time, but I was able to land properly. And before long I could do the perfect cherry drop--hang by your knees, swing 1, 2, 3, dismount. I can't remember if I did death drops or not. I am cautious by nature and those are scarier. I am sure I tried, but I think I stuck to cherry drops most of the time.
A few times in adulthood I have climbed onto the bar to see if I could still do any tricks. But now that I am older and out of practice, it hurts! My hip bones painfully grate the bar, the backs of my knees burn and my hands no longer have the protective callouses that allowed me to swing and twirl for hours. And I don't have the same strength I used to. It's hard just to jump up! I was trying to think what, if anything, I could teach my daughter. I don't think I would be brave enough to try a cherry drop, sure I'd land on my face or break something. But why not? What happened to the little girl that tried and tried, bruises and all, until she got it right? Is she still inside of me somewhere? I don't know for sure, but I am afraid she is gone. I hope to see her again--instead through my own daughter's strength, my son's perseverance. Maybe she isn't gone so much as passed on to my children. We all need to have courage and determination, but my kids will need it more in the coming years than me. I hope I can inspire them to be brave like I once was. Like I still can be, when I need to.
