Cartwheels in the Sand

Our resident kindergartener caught the cartwheel bug at school!  She’s my first kidlet with a love of cartwheels, and she turns them every chance she gets in an open space.  I, too, was a cartwheel girl.  I spent swaths of time in elementary school upside down turning carthwheels and trying to do round-offs and handsprings on the front lawn.   I walked on the deck railing as if it were a balance beam, hung upside down from my swingset.  When my grandmother got a new mattress, I took her old one and propped up the jogging trampoline on bricks.  I’d run, leap and do dive rolls onto the mattress, pretending I was part of the Fargo Acro Team.  I really, really wanted to be a part of the Fargo Acro team, nevermind that we lived THREE HOURS away from Fargo.   I spent every winter recess at school practicing gymnastics on the tumbling mat.

Anyway, seeing my favorite Banana turning cartwheels makes me happy.  And I can still turn a mean cartwheel at age 35.  At least it FEELS like I can still turn a mean cartwheel.  I’m not sure if my cartwheel actually looks mean or not, but it’s a joyful cartwheel nevertheless.