June 10, 2012 § 3 Comments
For the love, no one here name their kid “Thrill Bridges” because they think it’ll look cool on the back of a football jersey. Good grief.
Okay. My children and I spent a week with my grandmother. She is seventy-six, still works full time, and is so full of life. She has lived in the same small, Alabama town for most of her life. In this town, rush hour traffic does not exist and the phrase, “If you hit the Piggly Wiggly, you’ve gone too far…” is probably uttered to every visitor at the Shell Station.
The last time I spent a week with my grandmother, I was probably in high school. This past visit was amazing. Full of many full circle moments, the most memorable being a few trips to the city pool.
The pool is nothing special. It’s what you would expect a small town city pool to be. As a kid, I jumped from the two diving boards countless times, and I enjoyed watching my two older children do the same thing. One diving board is probably fifteen feet off the ground and the other is a little less thrilling.
My six-year-old daughter jumped from the smaller diving board several times and after watching her older brother on the big one, wanted to try. She climbed up there, gripped the hand rails, took three or four steps forward, and then got scared.
The life guards let me tread water in the deep end so I could be right there after she jumped. Her brothers cheered her on, and step-by-step, we talked her forward. One of the life guards asked how old she was. She told him and he said, “Well, if you jump, you’ll do it before I did. I was eight when I jumped.”
That probably did it for her, thinking she could beat a teenage boy. She got to the edge, stared into the deep, and jumped.
When she bubbled to the surface and met me, the whoops and hollers around the pool made her smile so big. She did it one more time and then quit.
All this got me thinking about thrills and what we do to chase that feeling. How some thrills are wonderful, and some are unhealthy. The unhealthy thrills are so addictive. They might take on a life of their own, or go a direction we don’t expect. Stopping is hard. Sometimes the best way to insure you aren’t tempted to cross that thrill bridge again is to burn it.
But jumping off the high dive? Perfect. Watching my daughter do it made me want to jump again. So I did.
How much fun with this be? I’d do it. Would you?