It's -20 ºC outside. I jump on the trampoline with my shoes off. The springs creak and groan in the cold. The small circle I jump in is warm and dark, while frost glistens on everything else. I face the house and its buttery squares of light. The wind belt at my back is thick with shadows. My neck tingles with animal paranoia. To distract myself, I focus on the Moon overhead. It's full and glows white. The clouds cross it, burn blue and silver. The snow sparks pin-points of light. I'm reminded of the Coke-Cola commercials where polar bears open up a bottle and look up at a pristine night sky.

I keep jumping. My feet are numb, but not frostbitten. There's an energy in my body that I need to get out. So I leap in the moonlight. I'm no more than fifteen years old. I leap, I leap, I keep leaping. It never occurs to me not to.

(Image credit: Philip Dattilo Photography)