Photo credit: Derek Bruff
I have a love-hate relationship with playground swings.
More hate than love these days, since the unreasonable swing manufacturers refuse to make swings properly. Back when I was ten, they made the swings so much larger; a perfect fit with no pinched thighs…
The part of the arc that sails me up to the sky makes my heart soar. I defy gravity. I fly like a bird. I touch the clouds. I…
drop like a rock back to earth.
As everything below rushes up to meet me, as my stomach drops away, I grit my teeth and brace for impact.
Because once, on a cheap plastic yellow swing with a rusted chain, it happened.
Just as I realized my pinky had caught in a chain link, I fell. I don’t remember whether the seat cracked or the chain snapped, but I ended up on…
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