Jumping Off

Three mornings a week, my friends Suki, Barb, and I walk four or five miles around Oregon State University’s campus. Along the way we see cows, horses, alpacas, friendly dogs, shy children, and college students with earbuds. We talk incessantly, laugh out loud, and move from serious to silly seamlessly. We walk rain or shine and feel proud of ourselves when we’ve kept to a 17-minute mile. I smile whenever I see them, and they smile back. We’re older women who’ve made lasting friends late in life. We’re lucky.

Last week, Barb told us a story about a trip to Puerto Vallerta a few years back that included a ZipLine tour. To get to the jumping off point 700 feet over the jungle’s canopy, she had to ride a mule for the final stretch. This is a woman who dresses well, wears functional yet fashionable hats, matching scarves, and sneakers that always look new. Imagining her on a mule was funny enough, but the mule she was given to ride that day was as obstinate as any mule could be. No amount of encouragement or nudging from her would cause him to move along when a bit of grass to eat was nearby. It was only a matter of time before the beast would need to pee while she was on his back, and when he did, yellow-brown urine splashed all over her new capris. She shared this story with mock horror and disgust as we all laughed, knowing that for her, the mule’s stinky, voluminous pee on her leg was especially difficult.

Then she told us about the ZipLine and how the only way she could get back to her hotel (to do laundry and get herself a bath) was to jump. There was no choice. But she stood on that platform, paralyzed. She couldn’t do it. Finally, the tour guide gave her the shove she needed and off she went, screaming and flying over the trees. When I asked her if she’d do it again, she said yes.

A couple of weeks ago, Brent and I were visiting his family in Baton Rouge. His granddaughter Annaleigh is deciding where she’ll go to college. She’s got offers from three Universities to play soccer. She’s very talented. I told her I didn’t think she could make a wrong choice; that every choice leads somewhere and that that somewhere leads to somewhere else. Talking with Annaleigh then hearing Barb’s ZipLine story reminded me it was well past time for me to take another step. I’ve been thinking about this blog for too long. Paralyzed for all kinds of reasons. But it’s already lifted my spirits to know I have an outlet to share music, writing, and photographs, and even more importantly, to know that there are others out there listening. Thank you for jumping off with me.

Have a good week.

Bar

Barb and Suki