Did you ever wish you could be a kid again and  the biggest issue of the day was how high you could swing?

 100_6399I loved to swing. Man I could swing till the sun went down. As I look back in the library of memories in my mind, I can almost feel the  breeze as it passed through my face. It was as if my face was splitting it in two and it rushed past my ears, and gently came back together as I glided in the air.

Swinging was a feeling of flight in a way. It was peaceful it was relaxing, it was a time to reflect.

I remember holding the ropes or chains of the swing and pushing with my legs, and pulling with my arms, back and forth… wind whispering, clouds getting closer and than farther away… hoping beyond hope that a brother or sister would not cross in front of me..that totally ruined the tranquil moment as I would see a sibling getting clobbered by my swinging legs. I remember really getting going and than kinda laying back as far as I could, my hair would brush through the dirt below… ahh the freedom of flight.

My brother Tom would sometimes swing with me, and he would go so high I would think he was going to flip right over the bar and swing in a complete circle. That little rug rat would take away my tranquil moment as he would all of the suddenly-on the forward swing—he would let go and become airborne, trying to see how far he could go.. Oh he would roll here and there, he would make foot marks in the sand to see if he could top his last landing… me..I kept coasting in the air.

I would watch and make sure he was okay..but he convinced me at a very young age, that he was one tough cookie. He was always jumping, dropping, rolling and popping right back up, with a big ol smile and headed to do it again.

He was such a funny little guy…100_6250 I can remember instead of just pushing his chair back… he would bend his knees really tight, put his feet on the seat of the chair, stand on the chair and than walk off the seat of the chair. He would land on the floor..shake it off…and walk away smiling. He smiled when he was sleeping..he smiled awake… His memory ..even interrupting my tranquility on a swing.. keeps me smiling now… I love ya Tom…….Love always, Cindy alias MRs Justa.

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