Swing

When I was little, there was a friendly old swingset in our backyard.  It waited patiently for the long northern winter season to pass each year so that it could once again provide a comfortable place for us children to play and laugh, and dream our big dreams under the warmth of a bright blue summer sky.  My brothers and I passed many happy hours there, pumping our legs wildly to swing higher and higher, pulling hard on the rope handles to hang our heads back so far they almost swept the ground, flinging our sandals off our tanned little feet high into the air.  We were young, and carefree, and giddy with the absolute freedom of summer and sunshine and life.  When I think back to those days on the swings, I still sometimes believe that I can fly....

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The swingset beckoned to the boys tonight after dinner.  It was an absolutely beautiful evening, filled with the gentler rays of the sun, a light breeze in the trees, and the lovely sounds of birds chirping their last melodies of the day.  Noah and Will each chose their favourite swing, and in no time at all, they were flying through the air, laughing and calling greetings to each other as they passed back and forth, flinging their shoes off their feet towards the sky, revelling in the feeling of air rushing freely past their smiling faces and bare toes.

As I watched the boys' gleeful antics this evening in a backyard almost 800 kilometres from the one where my old swingset stood , I wondered what dreams Noah and Will were dreaming up there in the endless sky.  I marvelled at how swings still have the power to make me incredibly happy, even all these years later, though now for completely different reasons.  For as long as there are children in the world, I hope that there will always be swings, to give them a place to play and laugh and be carefree, and to let them believe, even for a little while, that they can fly....