The scariest part: Sky Zone swing

Recently a friend invited me and my grandson to a trampoline park for a playdate; they had an extra ticket. Sky Zone was awesome. It was hot outside and cool inside and NOT overrun with kids. Thus, I was able to get on the apparatus.

So was this a good idea?

I’m 65, and marginally medically insured, like most of us. As I sat on the swing high above a foam cube pit, I wondered about first setting up a Go Fund Me. How would I be able to explain to my boss at work, how I’d broken my arm, leg, foot, finger? The idea was to push off from the platform and about 7 feet below was an impact pit. I’m sure it is soft, but from height, considering my weight, it could still hurt. At this point my friend who is 8 months pregnant and not doing it herself plus her son and my grandson were spurring me on. Just do it.

She had her cell phone camera trained on me.

After a few more minutes of deliberation, I let go, where I discovered . . .

The worse part was the worry. Which reminded me of every good thing I’ve ever attempted in my life—I jumped, leaped, plunged.

Baker Falls in the UP. My first solo bike trip from Jacksonville to Key West, getting married, having a baby, then, later, getting divorced, another long bike trip, moving across the country, my first apartment and job post pandemic. Life is made up of so many of these moments, so many firsts, so much doubt. We just have to remember:

The fun, the thrill, the joy of having done the thing—when you’re left holding the baby. You whisper into her ear—We did it!