One of my favorite activities during childhood was swinging. I loved the burst of speed as I started my descent. I loved the weightlessness I felt when I reached the end of my arc. I loved the feeling of bounded freedom, of almost being able to float away.
Moving to Auburn effectively ended my swing love affair. Three years of driving around random streets and exploring every park I could find and no adult-accessible swings.
I gave up. I resigned myself to swings behind the elementary school in my hometown (a lone 6-foot male gets odd looks when he is swinging alone behind an elementary school at dusk) and the local park.
(In the spirit of honest writer/reader interaction, I haven't been actively looking for a swing set for three years. It was more of a, "if I happen to see a swing" deal.)
In actuality, the desire to swing came about more recently. The last few weeks I have been "exploring" Auburn. Explore in this case meaning park on a random street, start walking and or jogging (mostly walking) until I get tired or lost and think about things -- mostly petty life details.
Nothing too earth shattering, just a time to escape over stimulation.
Last Sunday I, on a whim, parked at an elementary school somewhere off University Drive. I was all set to start my exploratory walk. As I got out of my truck, I took a look to my left. And that is when I saw them -- swings.
I let out a girlish squeal of glee and ran (more like skipped) toward the almost adult sized swings. I was pleased to learn I hadn't lost my hard-earned technique. Legs straight out when going forward, then quickly bent to provide momentum.
Straight, bent. Straight, bent. Straight, bent.
A couple of minutes into my swinging, the grin on my face turned into a giggle and my giggle into a laugh. Not a polite, "that was a humorous joke" laugh. A full out, body-shaking laugh. A crazy person laugh. And I am sure that is what I looked like -- a crazy person.
Picture a 20-something male alone behind an elementary school at 2 o'clock on a Sunday afternoon laughing like a maniac while vigorously swinging.
But, crazy or not, swinging helps me keep perspective. It helps me put aside distractions.
For a couple of minutes, I forget the 10-page paper and the critical final.
It helps me remember that what is important in life is this instant, this specific moment in time.
Not my future job or how much money I will (or won't) be making or what happened two weeks ago. Now.
At least that's what I believe.
And acting like a child helps remind me.
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