Every day in first grade I would make a city for ants out of the sand by the swings. Every. Single. Day. This included roads, parks, and (when sand conditions were right) bridges. Bridges were my favorite to make. Sometimes I had a friend or two help me, but mostly I’d be happy on my own. Of course, the ant city would be gone the next day, so I’d remake it. Gotta keep that population up and happy.
I used to love swinging itself, of course. I would swing every single day at recess. One of my friends in early primary school, Chad, and I were once swinging when we promised to grow up and both become police officers (neither of us did).
Now my hips are wider and swinging hurts after a while. The squeaking of rusty chains makes my ears on the brink of bleeding. Don’t get me started about accidentally sitting on a wet seat.
But despite all that, the subtle dropping feeling in my stomach when I reach the apex of the swing… amazing. I still go swinging periodically, mainly when I take my little brothers to the park by our house. Also, looking up and watching the clouds drifting by and the tops of trees zoom closer then farther then close then farther away…
This wasn’t really a useful tangent but I had fun writing it and I hope you enjoyed reading it.