Swinging High

The new gnomes needed a table for their brew and soup, so as seemed obvious to do the boys and I set to making them one. We wondered around to the so neglected territory of the garage, where there are random wood piles and loose nails, the perfect supplies for a rustic table the size of an index card.

Determined work ensued with sticks and old boards and a saw that was just as tall as them, and with much frustration and little progress turned to me for a solution. I had until then been throughly enjoying just watching them.

And I looked up into the rafters where we have tucked things here and there over the last several years we have been living here. It was just a corner of blue plastic and I knew exactly what it was.

It's been the topic of some brief conversation here and there, what happened to it when we made the chaotic move from Lacrosse to Lincoln? The kids sure had fun on it....the tree was perfect and they could swing so high!

Ezra would lay in the grass next to the huge maple tree where Seth had hung a very simple plastic swing. It had a safety harness and I would push the boys so so so high, their giggling, and the picturesque baby lying just below so still and engaged in the laughter of his brothers being tickled by the wind trying to reach the branches with the tips of their toes.

And...again...the memories are so bittersweet and again, I need to find a way to cry about it.

So begins June, 4 years later when i still feel this irrational hope that something is going to change and it will all be over, reconciled. I am feeling weary of the pep talk I give myself constantly....this is the way it is....make the most....live well...

I think we will hang the swing. Hazel will love it! It's movement back and forth will remind me of the way life seems to swing so far in opposites but always attached and returning to the center.