Jump
November 20, 2009
image courtesy of photobucket.com
Lately I’ve taken my lunch at the park, enjoying a bit of the country in the middle of the city. I’ll park my truck by the baseball field, climb a small hill to sit on a smaller bench, and stare across the street. Just to see if it’ll happen, finally happen, today.
The facelifted but tired house is home to a family I’ve never met and a young man I’ve come to know only from a distance. Ten or so from the looks of him. All boy. Grass-stained Levi’s, alternating Transformer and John Deere T-shirts, and a filthy baseball cap. Always the cap. Homeschooled too, I suppose, since he’s home every day and I’ve yet to see a truancy officer.
For about a week I sat and watched him take scraps of plywood and two-by-fours from behind his father’s shed, gather the pile in the middle of the driveway, and proceed to hammer and nail every boy’s first serious attempt at engineering—a ramp. It started small, not much more than a pine speed bump. But either his ambitions or an innate love for hammering and nailing got the better of him, and that bump got bigger. Much bigger. So much so that the upper part of the curve on the finished product nearly came to the bill of his cap.
This was someone not merely content to give a gentle tug at gravity’s suppressive bonds. No, he wanted to break them with impunity. To fly.
He hammered the last nail a week ago and then pulled a muddy bike out of the shed, backed it up a good twenty feet, and climbed on. And then climbed off. A practice run, I supposed. The next day he actually pedaled halfway to the ramp. Halfway and half-hearted. And like any act undertaken with half a heart, it was doomed to fail. He squeezed the handlebars just as the front tire went from pavement to plywood.
And that’s how it’s been since. Every day I come here for my lunch, and every day he inches closer to that ramp but never quite close enough. And right now he’s there again, sitting on his bike and staring.
I know why.
From where I’m sitting I can look to my right at a tight circle of iron tracks. The train runs at the park during the warmer months and is quite the attraction, both for the kids and the parents who once were kids.
As a child I was terrified of the train, convinced the tunnel on the far side was in fact a door to the underworld that swung only one way. Boarding it would mean the end of me. I would race through the tunnel and be swallowed by it, lost in the darkness forever. When I turned eight, I knew it was time to put up or shut up. I rode the train. I jumped. And to my unbridled delight I found that not only did the tunnel have an entrance, it had an exit as well.
And I can look to my left and see the spot where as a teenager I parked one Saturday night and listened as my girlfriend serenaded me with Poison’s “I Won’t Forget You,” promising to never-ever-ever if I just fell in love with her. I liked the sound of that, so I jumped. She forgot about me three months later.
Which is why I understand the boy’s apprehension. It’s tough to jump. Tough to gather the nerve. Because you never know what’s going to happen after. You never know if you’ll land or crash, laugh or cry. And so we all sit and stare and wonder whether the chance to fly is worth the risk to fall. The good things in life are like that. They cost much but are worth more.
I look out over the park and see him tug on the bill of his cap. He rubs his hands and adjusts the pedals, positioning them just so for the right amount of initial oomph. And just as I think he’s about to squeeze the handlebars again, he doesn’t. He pushes harder. His eyes open wide.
And he jumps.
***
It’s a twofer today, folks. I’m also guest posting over at my friend Bridget Chumbley’s place, One Word at a Time. If you don’t know Bridget, you really should. She’s a great lady and a fantastic writer. So hop over there and find out why us guys are so necessary. Hope to see you there!
Comments
23 Responses to “Jump”
Feel free to leave a comment...
and oh, if you want a pic to show with your comment, go get a gravatar!
I’m a writer whose first novel, Snow Day, will be published by FaithWords in 2010.
But don’t let that fool you. I’m just as confused as anyone.
And that is fine with me, because the great thing about wandering around in the fog is that you never know what you might run into.
Don't miss anything: Subscribe now-
You can catch up with me here:
-
And he jumps???
I demand to know the rest of the story!
(Okay, not really…)
great story! I am dangling my toes outta the plane for a sky-diving style leap of faith right now……this hits home, like you can never imagine!
It’s that moment when absolute desire finally overcomes absolute fear. I remember as a kid, standing at the top of a bank overlooking a ditch, terrified to do what the older kids did — jump to the other (far lower) side. The decision lasted an eternity, and then finally, I ….
I’m terrible at jumping… but I always love it right after I do. ALWAYS.
Still. I sit and miss out because the jump itself scares me!
I know that ramp. I’ve been riding up to it and sometimes part way up it. But then circling back. It’s more than every day that I come to it, walk away from it, looking back over my shoulder and whispering, “Someday.” It’s several moments a day. I’m going to do it. Just like that kid, I’m pulling on my cap and getting on that bike because a novel can only feel like a ramp unjumped for so long. I’m gonna jump, and fly. I just hope and pray I land, LOL.
Social comments and analytics for this post…
This post was mentioned on Twitter by gyoung9751: That moment – and we’ve all been there. “Jump,” by @billycoffey. http://bit.ly/3XVpE5…
I used to never even get to the edge of the ramp. Living outside of my comfort zone made me a jumper though. I’m a cautious jumper but I jump.
Awesome my friend.
Lovely. Life is a series of ramps. Living is when we go for them.
This reminds me of the first time I jumped off a high diving board. I stood on the end for what felt like hours, shivering, staring at the water miles below me. I’d glance at my mom, who wisely said nothing but offered immeasurable support with her patient attention. I remember my pounding heart, the blue, blue, blue of that dancing, teasing water, and then the letting go, stepping off the edge, and piercing the sky like a tiny, blond bullet.
Funny how the future swan dives and lay-out back flips never felt as scary as that first simple jump. Thanks for prompting a fond memory and reminding me that it’s fun to fly.
What some of us might never realize is that there is always a choice to be made.
Love this.
Billy,
I was so completely memorized by reading this, I need to know what happened after his jump? Did he crash? Did he fall? Did he successfully land? and what was the priceless look on his face afterwards? You can’t just leave me in suspense.
Love and Hugs ~ Kat
I am so not a ‘jumper’. I’m too afraid I’ll crash & burn!
This post is great… maybe if I get a baseball cap and have a little more faith… I can ease off the handlebars and let go…
Great post, Billy. Thanks so much for being a guest on my blog today as well.
Nicely said. I’m so not a jumper, either. I mean, when it comes to athletics, sure, I’ll pound out a 100-miler on the road bike, zoom down a hill clocking 39+ on the road bike, but with other things, yeah, not so much.
Well, unless God nudges me (Usually through one of my accountability partners/friends).
Great post, today, Billy. Have a fantastic weekend.
Jump, huh? I’m not always so good at that. Isn’t life funny? I think God wants us to jump. He wants us to trust him and jump and take those risks. The funniest part is that I’m always glad I jumped once I have. Thanks for another great post, Billy. Have a great weekend!
Another good post. What else can I say?
It made me wanna JUMP JUMP. (song reference)
That was a joke, but your inspiration is not.
Jumping is hard. I used to jump more often but now I see the scars and think twice. Some of them have been worth getting and I like to point them out and say, “This one came from…” and share the stories of how I got to be this way. Some of them, I tug my sleeve a bit lower and avoid the questions.
There are some places I’ll always jump for–some things that mean just that much. The difference is, I know the height and the danger–and take the risk anyway.
Now that’s my kind of kid.
Talk about your leap of faith.
Praying you are feeling better Billy!
This post has a lot in it and yet so simply illustrated – the power of fear will stop the mightiest of men from doing what God is calling them to do. Look past the darkness and see His brilliant light – walk by faith and not sight!
Blessings and wishing your family a wonderful Thanksgiving! We all have so much to be thankful for!
Jill
Enjoyed this very much. So much truth. Thank you.
Love it… this is so true for so many of us in life. How much time do we waste just looking, plucking up the courage to jump! OR…. maybe that is all part of the process and what makes the success of the eventual jump so exhilarating.
Thanks for the way you paint pictures with words…. I really enjoy your blog.
and he flew
Just pencil me in as a pretty regular reader —-when I need a lift—–I come here
thanks