The following piece is a fictional piece that was written in the summer of 2014. When My daughter was visiting me during her Spring break last year, I took her out to swing on the swing set we have in our front yard. Well, during these precious moments spent outside with her, an idea hit me sometime early one morning. This idea was based on a writing prompt I came up with for the Behind Our Eyes writers with disabilities group about motion. Here is the short piece that was created from these memories of swinging, and the prompt itself.
The Flying Swing
On a warm summer day, in the middle of June, I go outside to swing with my daughter for a few moments. She and I take our seats in the swings, and begin to swing back and forth, back and forth, in a normal slow swinging rhythm. All of a sudden, I walk the swing back as far as it will go, then I pick my feet up and let the swing go forward as fast as it can.
The swing usually goes only so far forward on its chains, but not this time. I feel the wind in my hair and my feet do not touch the ground. “Mama, We’re flying, for real!” Sharen is flying with me. The swing floats forward, the chains held by some unseen force. We fly over the fence that surrounds the front yard, and away from the house altogether.
The swing sways backward for a fleeting moment, then we sit dangling in mid air. I look down to see that we are miles above the earth. My daughter and I are both scared, but our fear is washed away by the excitement of feeling the wind in our hair as we sit dangling in mid air.
Then, before either one of us can scream, or make the slightest sound, we begin spinning clockwise. “Hold your feet out in front of you and fly with the swing,” I instruct my daughter as I do the same. We spin faster and faster as the wind swooshes through our hair. Round and round we go, where we stop? Heaven only knows! Round and round we go Where we stop… Oh wait, woe!
The swings suddenly begin to slow down and gently sway as we float to the ground. I look down and see that we are back over the fence, but how we got back to the spot where we started, I will never know. The swing glides backwards as we touch the ground, and when it comes to a stop I try to stand up to take Sharen back inside.
I try to get to my feet, but I fall to the ground. The world is still spinning, spinning, spinning, round and round. Wait! I’m not on the ground, I’m not even in my swing, I’m still lying in my bed. July is almost over, and school will start soon. Sharen is still at her dad’s house, and I’m still in my room. What happened to the lovely flying swing, I wonder as I open my eyes to see the sun rising over the land. That’s the moment I realize that I’m not really swinging, I was only dreaming!
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Love and prayers,