Stick The Landing
Finish this sentence: " I would love to jump into a pile of..."
I keep picturing this, over and over, thinking what I want to be beneath me when I land. I can think of a hundred things I'd love to jump into - feathers, a big pile of quilts, pillows, leaves. Everything thing that I can think of that I would I want to jump into brings me the same emotion - nostalgic joy.
Remember, as a kid, piling up quilts and pillows in a fort you'd spent hours building, then running and throwing yourself into them, just to settle with a sigh of contentment and wallowing in comfort, hoping no one would ever come ask you to move? Or on a warm autumn night, when you've spent hours raking the yard into the most gigantic pile of leaves on the planet, and you line yourself up from the neighbor's yard, sprinting towards that pile of crunching, sweet smelling leaves, jumping in, giggling and laughing at the hours of work strewn across the lawn? I remember raking for hours with cousins in my grandparent's yard, not caring that the sun was going down, the sounds of kid laughing and screeching ringing through the neighborhood. We weren't worried about neighborhood strangers, dangers or the crime rate. We weren't concerned with who texted us or what picture of ourselves we could send to prove we were having a good time. We were just concerned with sticking the landing in that huge pile of leaves so we didn't break anything important. And we laughed... and laughed... and laughed. We jammed leaves down each others shirts and ran from retaliation. If I close my eyes now, I can still smell the air.
I don't really know that I could name just one thing I'd like to jump into, but whatever it is, I just want that feeling of euphoric joy when I land.
I keep picturing this, over and over, thinking what I want to be beneath me when I land. I can think of a hundred things I'd love to jump into - feathers, a big pile of quilts, pillows, leaves. Everything thing that I can think of that I would I want to jump into brings me the same emotion - nostalgic joy.
Remember, as a kid, piling up quilts and pillows in a fort you'd spent hours building, then running and throwing yourself into them, just to settle with a sigh of contentment and wallowing in comfort, hoping no one would ever come ask you to move? Or on a warm autumn night, when you've spent hours raking the yard into the most gigantic pile of leaves on the planet, and you line yourself up from the neighbor's yard, sprinting towards that pile of crunching, sweet smelling leaves, jumping in, giggling and laughing at the hours of work strewn across the lawn? I remember raking for hours with cousins in my grandparent's yard, not caring that the sun was going down, the sounds of kid laughing and screeching ringing through the neighborhood. We weren't worried about neighborhood strangers, dangers or the crime rate. We weren't concerned with who texted us or what picture of ourselves we could send to prove we were having a good time. We were just concerned with sticking the landing in that huge pile of leaves so we didn't break anything important. And we laughed... and laughed... and laughed. We jammed leaves down each others shirts and ran from retaliation. If I close my eyes now, I can still smell the air.
I don't really know that I could name just one thing I'd like to jump into, but whatever it is, I just want that feeling of euphoric joy when I land.
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