Parkour. It’s a philosophy. It’s a way of life. It’s movement. It’s efficiency. But what is it really? Well it is all that and more. I can’t tell you since I’m not a traceur and I could probably commit mistakes that could get me into a lot of trouble. But I can try, right?
So here goes nothing.
Parkour is the callus I feel when I used to hold his hand. It is the eye rolling I did when he sees high walls. It was me shouting ‘I’m not with him!’ when he jumps everywhere. It is the cold clammy feeling when I hold railings just so I can try what he was doing. It was the delight I felt when I was able to jump across the low bar and I say, “oh my, I’m doing parkour”. It was the twinkle in his eyes saying “I’m so happy you did it, we are now getting on the same page”. It was me holding a video camera just to capture the ‘awesome’ stunt he does. It was the soiled pants he usually wears on Sundays. It was the annoyance I felt whenever he would jump off crazy stairs. It was my fear that he might injure himself. It was the dirty hands he kept off my face after he worked out. It’s the sweat trickling down his face that I taste as we kiss. It is the new shirts he would wear, one size smaller. It was the question, “is that okay for you?”. It was a test of my character, I admit. It was his dream to do it, but didn’t push thru. It was something I can’t do anything about, but to support.
At one point, it was everything to him.
It became mine too, at one point…as he was my everything.
But parkour, like everything else he did, had to sit back and relax. Until finally, one day forgotten.
He found different things to focus on. He found something he was better at. He found something he was more passionate about.
But I would always see that twinkle in his eyes, so I know that it’s alright. He is happy. Parkour may be gone, but he is still happy.
Now I sit back and relax. I haven’t seen him for quite some time. But I wish he still has that twinkle in his eyes. That even though my one day had happened already, he stays happy.