Give me a P! P! Give me and E! E! Give me an R.S.P.E.C.T.I.V.E.!
What does it spell?
PERSPECTIVE! Yes! Perspective!
Okay, I’ll hang up my pom-poms before I get thrown off the page.
How often have you told a little kid, “Eat everything your plate. Don’t you know there are starving kids in Africa?” I heard these words when I was growing up. Now I say them to my kids. Why? Perspective.
What? You don’t want to help fold the laundry? Don’t you know that there are kids in India who own nothing more than the clothes on their back? Hello? Perspective.
What? You don’t have time to go here? Do this? Read that? Did you know that a mother in Rwanda spends six hours to walk to and return home with clean water? Daily. Six hours! Just to have water. Every single day. Perspective.
Got a phone call yesterday. About a death. A young man found dead on New Year’s morning. His life over. What happened? Does it even matter now? His life is over. And all around him lie dominoes of despair. A mourning brother. A wailing mother. Angry friends. The words “Happy New Year” shoot bullets of ridicule in the wake of such reality.
So when you read the story below, know that it’s just a story. In light of the Perspective that surrounds us, this is just a little story.
A little sad story.
About zipping up a dream.
***********
Hubby mopes around the kitchen before he sits down to tie up his laces on his work boots. Sigh. The zip-line comes down today.Not just for a season, but for good. At least from its first launching location. A thud weighs inside us as he pulls out each nail, detaches the railing and pounds out all the hardware he installed to make a sturdy platform sturdy. What a beauty.
Each time I walk to the back door to witness the steps of disassembling take place, my heart sinks too. We’re all pretty bummed.
You see, [or you might not see but,] the zip-line stands for a lot more than a long steel chord between two trees to slide down for thrills. The platform alone is, was, a work of art, both in its engineering as well as its location. From the height of the launch pad, the wooden structure is the perfect place to watch the sunrise. And the sunset. It lies in the backyard, away from traffic, and in the quiet of the morning, hubby would often sneak up there with his coffee and the good book and enjoy a little time alone as he read to the sweet morning songs of bluejays and robins. Even an occasional cardinal or woodpecker showed up. On occasion. Grounding himself before he descended the steps. Back to life. Back to reality. Back to face the new day and all its challenges.
For me, the platform has been my Oh Romeo Oh Romeo balcony. I love climbing up there just to look down and call out to my Sunshine and flirt with my lover. I also love leaning over the ridge and seeing the whole yard, watching the girls race up and down the tree house slide, shooting baskets on the driveway, or running up and down the hill.
For the girls, especially our oldest, the zip-line symbolizes a right of passage. A moment of moving from kid to tween. Young youth to older youth. A place where each of them conquered their fears and jumped off the platform with courage that came from inside and out. The cheering voices below, especially of their dad next to them, coaching them to hold on tight, keep their legs crossed, and enjoy the ride. One small journey alone. Another step toward independence. The youngest took her rides with Daddy. All four, but especially Hannah, is having a really tough time watching it come down.
Alas, the end of one chapter of our book of adventures is being written. I know that there will be others. We’ll rebuild next spring. I suggested selling the zip-line kit on Ebay. Seeing it all undone and rolled up on the spool is a painful reminder. I still remember how my dad and a good friend helped build the ladder up to the platform minutes before Hannah’s friends arrived for her Zip-line Birthday Party. My heart pounded as I imagined parents arriving to see the dangerous tools still laid out across the back steps. The last tool tossed in, the garage door slammed shut, and the first car pulled to the curb. Talk about a phew moment if we ever had one!
The party was a blast. Hannah’s friends painted the inside room of the treehouse and sported bike helmets as one by one, the girls took screaming trips down and across the 90 foot journey from the high platform to the other end of the driveway. The bungee attached to the tree house provided a nice slowing down effect that kicked in just as you thought you were about to kiss the approaching tree with your nose. Okay, it never got that close. Just seemed like it as the bark drew near at incredible speed.
I still remember my first trip like it was yesterday. I’m not the biggest fan of jumping from high places, so slipping off the top felt like I was leaping to my death. I held on super tight to the handle for fear that my fingers would freak out and let go. And as soon as I left the platform, a scream was heard around the world. Or at least up the street. I screamed the entire way down. And when I maxed the distance and retreated when the bungee did its job, before descending down the ladder, I screamed some more. The first word out of my mouth after inhaling was simply: “Again!”
And again. And again. I rode the line seven times that night. It was dark before we put everything away. Riding the zip-line in the dark ups the ante of fear if you ask me. And the kids and their cousins and even the neighbors’ kids shocked me one day when they rode the line…facing backwards. Good times. Many of them. Memories. Now it’s time to say goodbye.
I almost forgot to mention why we’re taking it down. Without getting into the details, in a nutshell, someone was bothered by it. A neighbor felt uncomfortable with it. And threatened to cut it down if we didn’t take it down ourselves. He argued that if one of our kids or friends fell from the zip-line and got injured and fell onto their property, they would be liable as well. Sigh. Such is life.
We could have put up a fight. We did try different compromises. After we assured him of all the 101 ways we valued the safety of those brave enough to venture up there and off into the air. Nothing convinced our neighbor. In the end, we’re taking it down. It’s not serious enough to cause a rift in the relationship. It’s not that serious.
Just sad.
Perspective reminds us that it’s definitely not that serious.
Perspective reminds us that life is short.
And…
Perspective reminds us to look outside our backyard to get some…
Perspective.
Don’t panic “anonymous!” The zipline will resurrect in the spring … in a new location…not the ideal and perfect locale of the original spot, but if you know my hubby, like the phoenix…IT WILL RISE AGAIN!! 🙂
WWWHHHHHAAAAAATTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!