Dare to Remember – Dare to Fly

There’s something wildly magical about the sight of kids on a trampoline.

The moment their feet leave the springy surface, gravity loosens its grip just a little. Arms flail, hair flies, and laughter erupts into the summer air.

For a child, the trampoline isn’t just a backyard plaything—it’s a launchpad to freedom.

With each bounce, they seem to break through the limits of the everyday, defying rules, structure, and even physics for a moment or two.

Up there, suspended in time, they’re not just playing.

They’re flying.

To the adult standing nearby, maybe sipping coffee or half-heartedly scrolling through a phone, watching this is often more than just supervision—it’s a bittersweet moment of reflection.

There’s a kind of envy in that watching. Not a jealous kind, but a wistful one. Because at some point in the journey from childhood to adulthood, most of us stopped bouncing.

We traded the trampoline for timetables, traded spontaneous joy for structured goals. And yet, as we watch the children leap and laugh, something deep inside us stirs—a memory of how freedom once felt.

That weightless, reckless joy. That uncontainable urge to leap higher, not knowing where we’d land, and not caring either.

For a few minutes, we’re reminded of the part of us that still knows how to fly.

Kids don’t need a reason to jump. They do it because they can. Because it feels good.

Because in that moment, nothing else matters. And maybe, just maybe, watching them reminds us that not everything has to be so serious.

That joy doesn’t always need a justification.

So, the next time you find yourself in one of those moments—maybe it’s watching kids on a trampoline, hearing a street musician serenade the night, or witnessing a joyful dance in the rain—pause and let yourself feel it.

The laughter, the longing, the quiet voice inside that wonders what it would be like to bounce again.

And maybe, in your own way, let yourself fly.