My little brother has always been somewhat accident prone. Actually maybe accident is the wrong word. More like he was just a maniac with no regard for consequences and time after time wouldn’t think things through. That an idea might be bad never seemed to occur to him.
Like when he was maybe nine, and grabbed onto an electrical cord at the construction site where we were playing, then swung on it like Tarzan right over an opening in the floor just as the cord detached itself from the other cord it was plugged into. When I saw him lying down under the cutout for the stairwell in the basement dirt, I truly thought he might be dead. But he wasn’t, and he’s managed to pull through most episodes relatively unscathed and did live to tell about them.
Several years ago he showed up in my house on his way back from a lake in Wisconsin where he’d spent a week water skiing. Well, maybe not the whole week because he injured himself as soon as he got there. The details escape me, but he managed to pull a hamstring, which created a nasty blood blister under the back of his knee, and when a physical therapist friend massaged it for him, it released and he had the biggest bruise I’ve ever seen. It was dark purple and ran down his entire leg.
So when I was dreaming last night that Chad did a tandem skydiving jump with my four year-old son, Alex, my baby, TWICE, I was rather alarmed. That’s not a partnership I’m interested in exploring. I actually think I’d have faith in Chad. He’s an Air Force Academy graduate, has been through jump school and other flight-related training. It would be Alex getting just one taste of something thrilling that scares me. You see, Alex is a climber. He’s not afraid of water. He’s not afraid of heights. He loves being stopped at the top of a Ferris Wheel. He likes knives. He likes to go fast. Danger does not bother him.
So I can easily see Alex, after experiencing the glory of a free fall, putting on a make-shift parachute and jumping off the highest tree around. That’s all I need.
He doesn’t need any encouragement yet, Chad, so back off and get outta my dreams.
(Also there are like 20 titles from 1980’s songs embedded within this post. See how many you can get. Must name the artist. Bonus points for the year. No prize other than bragging rights. It’s almost 2:00 am. I can’t sleep.)
© Jennifer Alys Windholz, 2011