Sunday, November 16, 2008

Swing and a Miss . . .

"Like this!" I said to Ava as we sat on neighboring swings.

I kicked my legs forward and threw my head back, reached the top of my swing's arc and tucked my legs back and threw my head forward.

Higher. Back.

Higher. Forward.

Ava squealed with delight.

I saw the horizontal bar that the swing's chains hung from come closer and closer to my line of sight. I haven't swung "competitively" since I was in fourth or fifth grade.

Higher. Back.

Higher. Forward.

Kick and tuck. Body weight ahead. Body weight behind. Back and forward.

I looked down and smiled at Ava . . . who kicked and tucked in her own little way. The smile and look of pride at daddy going crazy on the swing!

One . . .

last . . .

tuck . . .

and . . .

Slip. Fall. Crash!

Glasses flew. Sand in the hair and mouth. Park spinning. Ears ringing.

"I'm not ready for World Championship Swinging," I thought.

Ava continued to squeal with delight.

I stood up, took stock of the "rest" of the kids and parents in the park. Brushed myself off and decided it was time to head home for dinner!

"You funny, daddy!" was heard on the short walk home.

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