The significance of a place to someone depends on so many different things; past experiences and emotions, along with personal connotations and knowledge.
This particular trampoline in our front yard became a part of our social life, I remember growing up as a teenager and spending hours just sitting and talking on it with the other kids in the street after school. And having the sides ripped off when a group of drunk boys walked past one Friday night and thought it would be a hilarious thing to do. Along with countless sleepovers under the stars in summer when it would get to the time of night where the trampoline felt so comfy that bed would never be able to measure up.
The fact the at 16, my brother still is one to throw consecutive back flips on the odd occasion, doesn’t even compare to the amount of living which has occurred on/under/around that trampoline, so to convey this place which had such an integral part of my childhood through mere creaking of springs, can’t even begin to bring the significance of it to justice. But as this creaking of rusty springs was the soundtrack to so much drama of my teenage years, it’s the center piece to a much bigger story.