Is there any better symbol for childhood than a swing?

Growing up, I had a rope swing hanging from an enormous tree in our backyard. It was the kind of swing that had a disc for a seat, and we could swing and spin high up and over our white picket fence. Sadly, lightning hit the tree during a big Midwestern thunder storm and we had to chop it down. I cried as I stood watching that tree come down.

I still love to swing myself but I also love to push little people on swings. Xavier has just recently graduated from kiddie seats to big swings. It was a big treat for him (and me) to swing with his cousin Mabel on her backyard tire swing this past weekend.

Pure joy.

The Swing

How do you like to go up in a swing,

   Up in the air so blue?

Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing

   Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,

   Till I can see so wide,

Rivers and trees and cattle and all

   Over the countryside—

Till I look down on the garden green,

   Down on the roof so brown—

Up in the air I go flying again,

   Up in the air and down!

~ Robert Louis Stevenson