Whenever I see a trampoline, I am transported back to my grandparents’ backyard. I used to brag about my grandparents having an official Olympic-standard trampoline that allowed for extreme jumping, way higher than I would ever be tempted to try or be allowed to. I can picture me and my cousins sitting in a line along the blue padded edge waiting for our turn to flip and somersault. I can feel my giddiness as my grandmother would jump around trying to crack my egg as I flew up into the air. I can see my late uncle gracefully completing the best backdrops and swivel hips that I could ever imagine. The trampoline was the focal point for so many Easter and Christmas gatherings, and now it sits compacted down in the back corner of the garage, lonely and dusty. Us grandkids all got older and the trampoline less magical. One day soon, maybe the spark will light again with the great grandkids who are coming of age… and that old official Olympic-standard trampoline will gain bragging rights once more.