There is a hallway in the chancery where the sun shines in at a certain time of day that is just beautiful.
There is no furniture in this hallway. Just some plants along the windowsills. The walls are white and the hallway is wide. The sun hits the wall in a way that is welcoming and friendly, and makes me think that it would be a great hallway to do a cartwheel.
With your legs flying over your head and your hands hitting the carpet, you go over and then up again. The ceilings are high enough. The walls are wide enough. The sunlight calls to you: run, and jump, and flip, and twirl.
And as I stand in this hallway, thinking about the cartwheel and how cool it would be, and how good it would feel, only one thing keeps me from breaking out in the short run required to get airborne.
I do not know how to do a cartwheel. Not even close. Never could. Never will. The thought of running, throwing my hands to the ground and tumbling out the second story window keeps me from doing anything.
Another missed opportunity. Another moment of my childhood I will never recover.
I thought about doing a summersault instead, but that would just be silly.
This week, I will try something I didn’t think I could do before.
But I am pretty sure it will not be a cartwheel.