Jumpers

Photo taken in Old Town San Juan, Puerto Rico (La Perla)

Saturday, June 29, 2024

My first love was not the girl who lived at the house on 22^nd and Ainsworth, nor the girl I rode the school bus with all through grade school. The way I started this writing mess, you’d think it was Patti Mayonnaise—but the maturity was me seeing Patti’s skin the same way I knew the texture of a Twinkie or a basketball’s dampened leather surface.

During the many practice sessions on the backyard court of my childhood home, I probably chucked hundreds, maybe thousands of jumpers into my adjustable basketball hoop. Between these jumpers, I’d stop to watch the prop airplanes approach runway 3 at PDX—then ride my bike to Alberta Park to show them boys how good my jumper was.

The airplanes descending across Northeast Portland flew over the neighboring homes through Dekum’s Blue as I’d watch, thinking, those planes are small and likely didn’t come from far. Some days during the summer, I’d put the basketball down and ride my bike to the airport to see the bigger airplanes touch down on 28L, off 82^nd Avenue.

I left my first love to watch, dream, then later cosplay basketball and travel, hoping that one would see me through airport security as often as I’d dream…. and watch 👁️👁️

-Budd