Growing up we had a huge trampoline in my backyard. We had to get rid of it a few years ago, but when I was twelve I practically lived on that thing. My siblings and I were allowed very little screen time and were told constantly to go outside (we led a tough life) so the trampoline became our favorite hangout. It was in the shad, was large enough to fit four or five of us on it, and it bounced.
The summer I was twelve, I had a superpower: I could jump higher than anyone else. Sure, my brother could do a flip and my sister was the champion of popcorn, but I could jump higher than the shed roof. I was very proud of this. In fact, I distinctly remember challenging all of our neighbors and friends to contests to see who could jump the highest. I always won.
We didn’t only jump though. When it was 90F out, we would lie on it eating popsicles. We’d play hand games, we’d plan adventures, we’d talk and laugh and hang out.
My favorite part of the trampoline though, was reading on it. Like a mattress, the springs allowed it bend to your body and it was cool in shade. Hidden in the back of my yard, there was no better place to read. On that trampoline I read every single Harry Potter book multiple times, I reread and reread and reread The Secret Garden, I read about girls in boarding schools kissing princes, girls in different times and places, I read some of my first “grown-up” books on that trampoline-John Grisham books from my parent’s shelves, and countless other books.
When we had to get rid of the trampoline, I remember having trouble reading. No other place have ever felt so comfortable and years later after a long day I still miss reading there. The summer I was twelve was a good one.
This post was inspired by day 11 of the Writing 101 Challenge.