Playground Swing

Lately, everything in my life is so fraught with meaning, and everywhere I look, I encounter so many responsibilities and commitments and obligations. It's enough to make me want to crawl into bed, pull the blanket up over my head, and not come out for a week.

When I was in Florida a couple of weeks ago, I took a break from my sister and the baby and spent a beautiful afternoon in the park with my friends and their kids. Somehow, I found myself sitting in a playground swing for the first time in years, possibly decades. I slowly started swinging. The higher the swing climbed, the more exhiliratingly free I felt. My worries and the tasks of the day seemed to fade into the distance as I swung back and forth, and the only things remaining in my consciousness were these bits and pieces of a poem from my childhood -- something about going up in a swing, up in the air so blue. For a moment, I was no longer the adult me -- instead I had returned to childhood -- innocence, freedom, and endless possibilities.

Sadly, there came a time when I had to come back to earth, literally and figuratively. But I'm still trying to somehow keep my grasp on that feeling.