Kevin put up two swings this Memorial Day weekend. One a tire swing, from an old tire one of the boys dug up on our property this past snow-less winter and the other a tree swing made with rope and a wooden board.
I’m 40 this year, and officially no longer young, but those swings make me feel like a little girl again.
I used to love to swing. One of my sweetest memories growing up was using the tree swing over at our neighbors, the McLeans house. Their boys were a little older and I hardly remember them using it, but I was given permission to come over and use it any time I wanted. I have wonderful memories of hanging there daydreaming, spinning, sitting on top of the tire and swinging.
There was another swing the neighborhood kids and I found in a bit of wild “forest”, I use that term loosely for we lived on a little 6 mile long peninsula/ocean side town that had little open area. It had a rudimentary path that led up to our elementary school, wasn’t well kept and seemed pretty wild to me. Anyway in this spot some older kids had tied a rope to a tree that traversed a bit of a ravene. I remember the fear and exhiliration of riding it across and then back, not quite sure if the rope would hold though darn sure my mom wouldn’t have approved of me using it.
Our tire swing is a cross between the dreamy, but quite safe tire swing at the McLeans and the long arch flying excitement of that “forest” rope.
Between the swings, the playhouse Kevin is building mostly from pallets he gets free from the dump, and a little hammock we strung out front a couple of months ago from the porch to a tree, our yard is becoming this wonderful wonderland. It is a place I would have loved to have played and imagined in as a child.
Like one of those Dad’s who sets up a race track or train with their children to share and relive happy childhood memories, on those swings I feel like little Lisa again playing without a care in the world.
Truly carefree moments are not always easy to come by with 5 boys to mommy, but hopping on one of those swings, gliding back and forth, I become just like my sons – a kid.
What a gift.
~Lisa
