Swingsets
In my backyard stands a small wooden swing set. It’s been there as long as I could remember. It’s a deep brown from the re­staining my mom did a while back. The seats are green and plasticy, often covered in white bird poop. The chains they hang from squeak and pull on the sturdy monkey bars. A faded baby blue slide runs down the side. As I child, this was my heaven. I would run out to swing everyday after school. Pumping my legs until they burned, feeling the breeze rush my hair back and forth, and hoping I could get high enough to touch the sky. As I felt I was high enough, I would give one last kick, let go and jump into the clouds and land on the cool grass.
That was seven years ago. Now when I pause my rushed motion of adolescence I will look out back, and see all the memories out there. In the humid summer, the warm fall and spring, and the brisk winters that weren’t snowy. Sometimes, I want to shove my homework on the floor, flip off my shoes and relive those moments. But I’m too old for that. My inner kid is hibernating. I believe in swingsets because I really believe that everyone has an inner child.
Most of the time I’m true to that but I have relived it, once. It was a few summers ago. The air was thick and hot as I sat on the patio painting my nails a sparkly pink when I looked up and saw a squirrel run down the slide. I laughed then stood, ignoring my smudging nails, and jumped on. My brother saw and ran out to join me. We swung until tears streamed from our eyes from the wind and our hair looked like birds nests. We may have looked insane with happiness but we had no care. I looked around and I was six again, carefree. I could have been out there in one of my old pink dresses and leggings, with my frizzy hair down and wild, like a lions mane around my head. My inner child was awakened. I couldn’t have been happier.
Once in awhile, I pause to think. Maybe my own children will feel that same joy. Perhaps, when I’m older, I will swing with them. I would teach them all the trick my mom taught me. You stand in front of the swing, grab the sides and run forwards. When you can’t push the swing any higher, you give a shove upward and run through. The person riding the swing will think this is amazing, I swear. When my mom did this to me, I would squeal and scream with happiness. I think everyone has something, but for me, swingsets can bring out the best part of people, their childhood.