When I was little, I was someone who liked to study, but also liked to play. My favourite was skipping.
In the summer we would rush through our packed lunches to go racing out onto the school field. The sun probably wasn’t always shinning, but in my memories it was. I can imagine the feeling of warmth from the afternoon sun on my face, as we would all come running out of the dinner hall to go outside to play. My little, checked sandals would hurry across to the bottom of the school field, which had dried cut grass permanently scattered across the top. (The same grass you would find yourself picking off the velcro of your sandals in the lesson after lunch!)
The dinner ladies would stand holding the ropes and we used to jump, whilst one of us sat on the side counting how many jumps we had done. Each jump would be in time with the rhyme that we were all singing and then the singing would dissolve into a fit of giggles. This meant someone’s feet got tangled up and you and your friends had won the competition; Success!
But when did it change? When did what was associated with jump became less about joy, and more about fear? Now jump is a word that I don’t want to associate with. But I have to. I have a nervous character and seem to jump at everything. My crumpets has just sprung up out of toaster and I feel myself twitch. A crumpet for goodness sake! I sit typing up this blog post, and I hear a sudden creak from upstairs, which again makes me flinch.
So I think its time to revert back to my old definition of jump, it sounds a whole lot nicer. Now I’m not suggesting that I’m off to search for some dinner ladies and a skipping rope, but maybe more hypothetical in the sense.
Jump should become less about the fear of the unknown but rather the excitement and joy of it, and that I just need to jump right in!
Linking up with ‘Mum turned Mom’ http://mumturnedmom.com/the-prompt/