Most children have a metal and rope swing set in their back garden. Where the grass invites them to land softly, against the blunt blades, that cushion their fall from the sky. Grass will later be mowed into lumpy-mash, just soft enough for a child to bare.
Learning how to swing is like getting one fish to follow your finger along the tank’s glass. It is a challenge of the mind.
A child will never forget the day they fall off their swing. Knocking them harshly on the back of their head, the child is torn. No cry so severe; it burns the mother’s heart to hear them so troubled, shocked and hurt.
Over time, cobwebs grow. Children will argue that Spiders are stopping them from playing on the swings. Even gullible parents know of the secret grudge: the swings have a one-up on their child.
Arriving at the park, the swings are sure to grab any child’s attention.
Wooden, rusted, squeaky swings are most common. Who can get the highest, and least irritated of the awful noise, on the swings?
Children do not fear the tall, wobbling structure of the old swing set, badly cemented under ground. They fear the wasps, attracted in the summer heat.
Wasps are the extreme terror of the mind. Children brave knowing they are attracted to the tall wooden structures, and moistened bark chips on the ground. They avoid wasp’s powerful stings all day long.
Standing steady on the swing, they test out their new-found skill. Excited to see how difficult it would be, to sustain comfort in standing tall, and swinging high.