Jump For Joy

I grew up in the Midwest. One of the most formative, precious objects in my life there was my trampoline. I would have lived out on my trampoline if I could have. Before I left for school,  I would go and jump. On a balmy summer night, I would go out in my PJs and jump. When I got home from school, I would jump. It was a thin black mat and sometimes my brothers would jump and I would lay underneath and they would land heavily on the mat and jump high and it would almost hit me what with their weight. When my parents fought, I would sometimes head outside and just sleep out on the mat, with the crickets and cicadas calling out and the dew and the many stars. I forgot there was a world beyond "my tramp." I had a routine that went like this: "Seat-to-Doggie-to-Knee-to-Back Drop-to-swivel hips-to-prone-to-Turntable-to-Back Drop-to-Roundabout-to-knee-flip-to prone-flip-to-back-flip-to-Double-and so on....
I always did my routine in the same order and would keep trying to add one more feat to the drill. Jumping on my trampoline made me incredibly happy.