Peace in A Rope Swing

Photo by Gantas Vaiu010diulu0117nas on Pexels.com

My neighbors have a swing that dangles from one of several trees in their front yard. I can see the tree and the swing from the windows in my living room, which is great because I can keep an eye on them even if I’m in the house.

My kids love that swing, and so do our neighbor’s kids. They sit on a plank no more than 9″ wide, grasp two pieces of wood tied into the rope and spin each other for what feels like hours on end.

The spinning takes them around so many times in succession, they wheeze with delight, laughing so hard they can hardly breathe.

I feel dizzy looking at them.

Sometimes, I think of nausea.

Other times, I think of roller coasters, and the fact that I can’t go on them anymore without feeling sick to my stomach. I envision the child-like things that I can’t quite muster anymore.

But I try to dislodge my brain from those facts when I watch the children play.

Their version of fun creates a sweet, unlabored love that radiates through their bodies without obstacles of any kind. They experience joy and all its all-encompassing, tiny, massive bits at once.

In my mind, the rope swing embodies everything it is to be a child. It is simple, sweet energy, spinning and swinging, momentous and kinetic, everlasting in its impression. The kids will remember that rope swing for an eternity.

How sweet is that?

When we bought our house, I cringed slightly because the property does not have a traditional “backyard.” That means we spend our time in the front of the house, in full view of the neighborhood on any given day. Bicycling happens out front, ramp construction for the skateboards, scootering, swinging, and ball games.

But the unexpected magic is this: our neighbor’s rope swing is in their front yard, too. There grew the best tree in the yard for such a thing, and there is stands.

So, we can see each others’ children, brimming with glee and eagerly begging for their next turn on the rope swing.

Go figure.

Life’s most unexpected nuances can become the peaceful moments I’ll always cherish. This brings me peace.

What brought you peace this week? Share the peace!

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