The One with the Jump

Dorothée King
3 min readFeb 19
image by B. Marryott

We are on fall break. I decide to take the kid and their friends to a trampoline park. On the tram they already jump up and down in anticipation of being in the air for the rest of the afternoon. When we arrive at the register I decide to go jumping, too. I want to get out of my low blood pressure hole. I also want to show the other moms, the ones who sit there waiting and starring in their cell phones, what a joyful life could look like. I book 90 minutes for all of us. We put on our anti-skid-socks and off we go.
I have not been on a trampoline for years. I fly high up in the air. My daughter and I practice jumping synchronically. We smile. I am so happy. I feel my life energy coming back. I start swinging my arms. With every jump I lift my knees into my chest. I jump higher and higher. I fly in bliss.

All of the sudden I feel an unexpected hotness in my crotch. I remember that I might still have my period. I jump. I also remember the maxi pad I attached to my undies earlier today. I jump higher and higher. I want to get rid of all the menstrual fluids. I want to renew myself through jumping. I feel it hot and juicy. I climb on various obstacles in various heights and jump on the trampolines from there. I jump even higher. I make my way to the jumpiest of all trampolines. I ignore the kids waiting for their turns. I jump higher and higher. I still feel hotness in my crotch.

I remember our dog’s red and swollen vagina. She is in heat. I remember the bloody stains on the wooden floor all over our apartment. I jump. I try tricks. I land on my knees. I turn in the air.
I take a break. After thirty minutes of jumping, I feel happy and exhausted. I look for the kids. They hang from the ceiling. They discovered the high ropes forest over the café area. I decide to look for the bathroom. On my way I almost fly down the hallway. I feel so light and energized.
When I sit down on the toilet, I look at my maxi pad. I smell the maxi pad. No blood. Urine. No period. Incontinence. I feel like ignoring. I wash my hands. I go back into the trampoline area. My daughter is still high up in the air in the high ropes. I get in line with the five- and eight-year-olds to wait for my turn to get up to climb. I manage the first level of the high ropes. I decide to go up higher. I climb up to the second level. Tightened to the ropes I climb through the tangling obstacles. Seven meters below I see the moms with their cell phones. I decide to ignore them. I have to concentrate. Even though I have a rope it feels like I have to hold my whole bodyweight with my arms. I do not have enough momentum anymore to make it all the way through the last rope way. One of the young men helping out comes to the rescue. He reaches for my hand to pull me up to the last platform. I feel ashamed. I hope I am not smelly. The last task is to get down. A seven-meter jump back to the ground. I hold onto my rope. I close my eyes. I jump.
Back home I take off my clothes and take a shower.

Dorothée King

author, educator, artist, designer, meditation teacher, consultant /