West Texas
From our house, we could get to every house in our world by following the concrete sidewalk that connected all the back yards around the shared tennis court. The front yards, with identical patches of dry grass, faced the streets and were off-limits. There were stickers and burrs everywhere in those weeds.
Everything we could want or need was out back. Plenty of other kids with tricycles, bicycles, scooters, skates, and wagons...that’s how we rolled on the empty court. And there were plenty of horny toads.1 They let us hold them and rub their tummies before returning them to the ground for camouflage.
I was four years old, and solidly imprinted on my big brother. At seven, he was already recognized in the company housing compound as an intense and enigmatic leader.
I followed him everywhere and noticed what happened.
Somebody’s house had a detached garage with honeysuckle vines growing all the way up to its roof. One morning I followed my big brother and a few of his buddies up the trellis to the top. The ascent was no problem, but getting down brought up some issues.
If I had wandered up there alone, discovering things for myself, I probably would have climbed down as deftly as I climbed up, satisfied with having climbed higher than I’d ever been in my life. But I was not alone, and everyone else was up for jumping off the roof.
I watched my brother, then the others, one by one, stand balanced at the edge. Each rehearsed a few approaches, then leaped down to the spongy ground below. When it was my turn, I dallied over the decision, so they moved on without me. My brother hesitated just long enough to give me “the look,” then led the others away.
I think “the look” probably meant,
“Go ahead and jump, you can make it, you’ll be ok.”
Or
“If you're scared, climb back down and jump some other time. It's no big deal.”
I stood there for a long, long time, getting up my nerve to jump. When it finally happened, about ten minutes later, I did it with assurance and, I believe, a degree of grace. I landed with knees bent, arms forward, and went right into a somersault. Afterwards, I lay spread eagle on my back, noticed the vast Texas sky, and felt glad to be alive.
During the jog past three houses to get home, I relived the amazing jump off the roof. No Olympic diver ever felt more ‘in the zone’ than I did. My approach was impeccable. Three deliberate steps. Then not a muscle moved. I stood frozen in thought, deliberating. Finally in a moment of inspiration, I sprang from that platform and went into a modified tuck position, which helped me land on my feet, ready to roll. The velocity of the jump seemed to pull my face back as the air rushed against me. My heart went up to my throat. I don't remember if I vocalized on the way down. I probably didn't have enough air.
It was a breathtaking jump. Incredible how soon it was over, considering the time it took for preparation. I laid back in the warm morning sun and marveled. What a moment of bliss! It just felt great.
When I talked to my brother about it fifty years later, he remembered the garage and the jumps, but said there had been a dirt pile behind the garage. We jumped from the roof to a pile of dirt. Not grass.
Either way, it was a real confidence-builder.
There were no eye witnesses to my flight, but I told Mom and him. Mom was slow to get the picture.
"You WHAT!?"
But I explained things to her, and she could see that I was not only uninjured, but I was beaming. My brother backed up the story and gave me a glance and a nod that probably meant,
"You're my sister."
A ‘horny toad’ is not a toad, or a frog, but a reptile relative of the iguana.
Hello! LOVE your ART ❣️ Beautiful
Your Komodo dragon in full camouflage mode blows my mind, Sherry. It looks like iit's made of millions of individual dabs of paint and is just gorgeous. And your story of. your bravely accomplished jump off the roof is told in such a way that I was right there with you, girlfriend. It took so much heart and courage. And I love your brother's supportive and trusting response. Wonderful!