Dear blob,
I love you. I thought about trying to ease my way into this letter. Trying to play it cool and slowly unravel my emotions but I can’t do that when it comes to you, can I?
What is it about your big, rainbow colored rubber bladder that makes you so perfect? Is it the stripes that are strewn festively across your air-filled belly? Is it that you sit patiently waiting for me in the middle of a lake? Is it that you live for my enjoyment and my enjoyment alone?
It’s difficult to say, but I wanted you to know something, you are the original moon bounce. I know that right now you’re going through some tough times. Churches and camps have taken your technology on dry land. We’re cheating on you, bouncing on castles and slides and other blow up toys that we can rent from some bouncesheba down the street. Years ago, if someone wanted to jump out of control and land awkwardly on their back or collide heads with someone else and make that coconut “thunk,” there was only one option, you. But now, we’ve cheapened your boisterous bounciness with knock offs.
Can you forgive me blob? I’ve changed. Oh, how I’ve changed. I never go on those moon walk bounce things anymore. All I want is to be back with you. All I want is for someone heavier to jump off something high and send me cascading through the air like a dove of mercy into a lake. Is that so much to ask? Can we not rebuild what we once had?
Like the band “Our Lady Peace” once sang, “I know you’re out there, somewhere out there.” Please forgive me. Float back into my life. I promise that when I open my camp, “iCampJesusxTremeadventuramatacular” you will be the star attraction. I’ll cut down my ropes course for you. I’ll punch the archery range in the face. Just come home.
I see your true colors,
Jon
