A vast and verdant green set of hills that sloped down in a way that seemed to plead with you to run and tumble down it. With the sky absent even a single white puff and the sun shining with loving radiance, there was never a better time.
I obliged with immense glee and much to my delight, soon found that if one leaped with just the right amount of shifting weight the fall back to the ground was slowed significantly. What inspired the next thought I did not know, perhaps childlike fantasies of the physics of parachutes born of bed sheets or plastic bags held confidently overhead. This time the result was different. One more chance to dispel the disappointment of reality.
By taking off my sweatshirt and whipping it over my head in a helicopter motion I could slow my descent even more, lessening it to a gentle glide. Yet most of the five other friends who were also running and jumping couldn’t seem to muster this. Save for two others, frowns and frustrated cries were abundant. Their bouncing bellies seemed too much an anchor to overcome. Those that had mastered the craft helicoptered our way down several more hills, laughing and whooping all the way. The weightless glide was a euphoric, primal kind of happiness.
For one particularly slanted hill I ran halfway down giggling and leaped to helicopter the rest of the way. The grass suddenly dropped off as I passed, and I spun out over an immense cliff face. Cars and trucks little more than tiny figures moving about their business below. I wanted to continue all the way down but knew my arm would never last the trip so I spun back and just barely caught the edge of the grass with the tips of my shoes, my arms undulating in a wild flail as I rocked back. As my balance abandoned me and my toes slipped two sets of hands shot out and grabbed my shirt, yanking me back to solid ground. It was my two rotund friends and being unable to helicopter they had stood on the edge watching.
Before we woke up we all laughed for what seemed like days.
A Printed Mind 