Many of the brightest threads in my tapestry of memories are woven from the slender strands of human connection—simple yet precious moments of shared humanity: the sympathetic simplicity of seeing my heart reflected in someone else's eyes, a genuine, friendly smile that reaches across to tug my lip into smiling in return, an inside joke that becomes increasingly hilarious simply because we're both laughing, the reassuring joy of recognizing in a stranger a kindred spirit.
~Me
~Me
The day I met Mamo was an all-around fantastic day for making memories. The occasion was an extended family picnic at a local park. My four year old cousin, who, for the sake of anonymity, I will refer to as Cinderella—Ella for short—was the other child who made that day particularly memorable. As you can guess from the name I chose for her, she is princess kind of girl. She loves pink and looking pretty; she also gives the best hugs imaginable.
When I arrived, she excitedlyran danced and pranced on tip-toe to me for a hug. As she pressed her little cheek against mine caressingly, her mother approached. When I tended Ella and her brother a few months ago, at bedtimes I read them nearly every tightwire storybook I own. Ella’s mom let me know all those bedtime stories had an influence—the little girl in my arms had been teetering along the edge of their master bed at home. As she wobbled, she would call out, “Hey, Mom, look—this is what Guinevere does.” (Yes, I thoroughly enjoyed picking a secret princess codename for myself too.)
That was the perfect opening to ask my little friend if she’d like to try out a slackline herself—I “just happened” to have my slacklines in the trunk of my car. She chose the vibrant royal blue 1” Gibbon slackline over the glossy brown 2” line—having the most beautiful colored slackline is what really counts, naturally. Unfortunately I didn’t have pink.
Gripping my hands tightly, that little girl crossed that slackline more times than I can count, and every time she slapped her hand on the bark of the anchor tree, victoriously indicating another successful lap.
As I taught her about focusing on the anchor point rather than on her feet or the ground directly below, I mentioned that one of my favorite balance songs is “Don’t Look Down”—a song from the Disney series Austin and Ally. Well of course then I needed to pull out my phone and play the song. As she listened, her eyebrows puckered just a little bit as she concentrated with four year old seriousness. The song met with approval, as I’d guessed it would; when it was through she asked for it again. Pretty soon my phone was set to play it in a continuous loop; and even the slight pause in between repetitions set my Ella to worrying that the music had stopped.
The two of us took turns balancing, switching each time the song finished. When it was her turn, Ella would stand sideways on the line facing me, bouncing and swaying enthusiastically, belting out the chorus, “Don’t look down, down, down. Don’t look down, down, down, down.” Joining in, I did a shuffling imitation of dancing while keeping a firm grip on her.
When it was my turn to balance, I too would (try) to bounce in time with the music, frequently scrambling back on after my attempts at dancing instead sent me tumbling. And while I balanced, Ella twirled next to me clutching the phone in one little hand, holding it high so the music would play loud and clear.
She learned the lesson well—whenever another child came over and took a turn, she was quick to remind them, “Don’t look down! Don’t look down!” when there was even a hint of a glance earthward.
Her mother may not be thanking me for getting a song with an incredibly repetitive chorus so firmly fixed in her daughter’s head (though perhaps she could thank me for temporarily displacing “Let it Go”). The song is certainly even more firmly fixed in my memory now. I loved “Don’t Look Down” before—enough to blog about it after all—but now hearing it reminds me of that epic slackline dance party with one of my favorite princess girls.
When I arrived, she excitedly
That was the perfect opening to ask my little friend if she’d like to try out a slackline herself—I “just happened” to have my slacklines in the trunk of my car. She chose the vibrant royal blue 1” Gibbon slackline over the glossy brown 2” line—having the most beautiful colored slackline is what really counts, naturally. Unfortunately I didn’t have pink.
As I taught her about focusing on the anchor point rather than on her feet or the ground directly below, I mentioned that one of my favorite balance songs is “Don’t Look Down”—a song from the Disney series Austin and Ally. Well of course then I needed to pull out my phone and play the song. As she listened, her eyebrows puckered just a little bit as she concentrated with four year old seriousness. The song met with approval, as I’d guessed it would; when it was through she asked for it again. Pretty soon my phone was set to play it in a continuous loop; and even the slight pause in between repetitions set my Ella to worrying that the music had stopped.
The two of us took turns balancing, switching each time the song finished. When it was her turn, Ella would stand sideways on the line facing me, bouncing and swaying enthusiastically, belting out the chorus, “Don’t look down, down, down. Don’t look down, down, down, down.” Joining in, I did a shuffling imitation of dancing while keeping a firm grip on her.
When it was my turn to balance, I too would (try) to bounce in time with the music, frequently scrambling back on after my attempts at dancing instead sent me tumbling. And while I balanced, Ella twirled next to me clutching the phone in one little hand, holding it high so the music would play loud and clear.
She learned the lesson well—whenever another child came over and took a turn, she was quick to remind them, “Don’t look down! Don’t look down!” when there was even a hint of a glance earthward.
Her mother may not be thanking me for getting a song with an incredibly repetitive chorus so firmly fixed in her daughter’s head (though perhaps she could thank me for temporarily displacing “Let it Go”). The song is certainly even more firmly fixed in my memory now. I loved “Don’t Look Down” before—enough to blog about it after all—but now hearing it reminds me of that epic slackline dance party with one of my favorite princess girls.
