The swing

She stands on the little stool in the back porch and yells out the window at her swing. It doesn’t matter if it is raining, snowing or pitch dark outside, that’s where she wants to be. It provides never-ending joy.

I pick her up and drop her into the swing seat. I push her back and forth for a few minutes. She enjoys it and wants to be pushed higher. I oblige but my safety limit doesn’t match up with hers. There is no such thing as danger to her. Be it object, animal or person, everyone is her best friend; from friendly strangers in restaurants right down to the homeless people invisible to the majority of us. King or street sweeper, they all get a frantic wave and smile. It’s reciprocated with equal enthusiasm, most of the time. Some put up a cold front, refusing to be humored by the little red head that has so much love for everything that it has to be shared or she’ll burst. We see it all the time at home too. Martha and I have only so much capacity. We soon fill up with what she is dishing out in spades. The excess is spread out around the house in the form of adoring hugs and kisses lavished upon chairs, the coffee table, the floor, radiators…

We hung the swing from the smaller of the two catalpa trees in our back garden. It swings a little to the left and has been known to get dangerously close to the trunk. A shoddy installation job not helped by the sloping branch it is anchored to. There was a more suitable branch on the other side of the tree but we lack a ladder of sufficient height to get up there. She won’t hold it against me. When swinging seems to be getting old we switch to slowly turning the swing clockwise so that the ropes are braided tight together. The anticipation builds. The giggles leak out and break the nervous silence. She knows what’s coming. A few more twists and there is enough stored energy in the ropes. The swing itself has lifted up about 18” like the seat in a photo booth. I let go. The swing unwinds and with each rotation it accelerates more, as do the squeals and laughter. It’s all over in less than a minute. She is laying back in the swing, unable to sit up, paralyzed by bliss and dizziness. We go again. We do it maybe five times total. Then she pukes, but it’s only water because dinner was ages ago… so we go again.