Hey Grindy. Here's number 2 beeotch.
Yesterday was Southern Ontario's Summer sampler. 25˚C and Sunny. TheWife™ and I took a trip down the river to see how incredibly flooded it was.. and boy, was it.
When I was younger I, like most other of my age, enjoyed the swings. The effort to see how high you could get, coupled with the thrill of jumping off the swing at the vertical climax. Jumping from the swing made you a man, in that school boy sort of way.
Yesterday, during the Summer sampler, I got onto the swings. Just like when I was 9, I went through the motions to achieve the ultimate height. Throwing my legs backward, thrusting the forward, and I achieved the desired goal. The process itself was neither here nor there. It wasn't until I started looking at my feet as they passed underneath me, and the view of the gravel as I went back and forth that the spark of past memories ignited. It wasn't so much memories of a grand story or childhood experience, but more the strange familiarity of what I was seeing. I didn't stay on that swing long, afraid of what might transpire if I did. I really wasn't up for unlocking anything at that very moment. I've been beaten with the nostalgia stick enough lately as it is. TheWife™ and I moved on with our walk, denying what my history was trying to offer me at that moment. I hope that it was better off that way.
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1 comment:
...and you didn't jump off! Pansey!
Post #10 today. Behold my rippling blog muscles.
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