Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Jumping Over A Ledge

Today I was walking towards the MRT station to get to work when I saw a boy of about 5 or 6 years old, squatting on the edge of the stone ledge of a raised carpark wall. The wall was about less than 1.5 metres tall and the boy was looking over, as if deciding whether or not to jump.

I smiled at him and he shyly stood up and started strolling along the stone wall, nonchalantly, as if trying to give the impression that he was absolutely not contemplating whether to jump or not.

This brings back memories of another child of roughly the same age, standing on another ledge, a higher wall of close to 2 metres, overlooking not cars, but a large patch of grass.

She stood on the ledge, considering herself fearless(!!!) and indestructible(!!!) among other things, yet hesitant of the consequences of jumping over such a high wall. But still, ever the embodiment of courage(!!!!) and steel(!!!!), she took a deep breath and propelled herself into the unknown...

Realising that her eyes were closed, she opened them and realised that she had landed. Safely with no painful aftermath whatsoever.

Gleeful of the results of her guts and glory(!!!!!), she promptly made her way up onto the ledge again. And as if wanting to prove the first attempt not to be a fluke, she dispatched herself again, this time with less hesitancy, over the ledge.

Weeeeeee!!!

Ahhh, but good things apparently did not come in pairs, not in this case. This time round, her landing was not as graceful as the first, and she ended up a heap on the sticky grass, with a twisted ankle.

But of course, nothing could take away her elation at having accomplished an act of daring, twice no less! And she happily limped her way home. And although years later, the twisted ankle would give her problems from time to time, especially when she exerts a lot of pressure on it, the day was hers. She had conquered her own inner Everest and she was proud of it.

The ledge is no longer there, they took it off to build a shopping centre. But the memory of it is still brings a smile. The simple audacity of a little girl who seemed all set to challenge anything that comes to mind. I sometimes wish that I am still half that reckless girl who was willing to try anything. Yet, another part of me is glad that I lost some of that foolhardiness throughout the years.

But I do hope that the little boy succeeded in conquering his own Everest. I am sure that it would be a nice little memory for him when he grows up and no longer seeks to validate the little daredevil in him anymore. =]