Swing- for Us.
18.5.07
[Look mommy, two posts in one day!]
We began walking the day we met each other. People who know us would think this is a lie, a blatant lie. I know they'd accuse us of being indoor-sy people, but only we know. We began walking the day we began with each other. The words flowed back and forth between us, like a pendulum. A stroke for every moment. We talked and walked, walked and talked. We lost track of where we were headed before we began walking together. Old tracks were long lost.
And it was on one of these walks that we encountered an empty swing. Children that we really are, we couldn't help but sit ourselves down on the plank. We reached down with our feet and pushed, off the swing lifted. We flew through the air, back and forth, like a pendulum. A stroke for every moment. It gathered momentum, we were scared. Suddenly all we wanted to do was stop. It was a bit much for both of us. And just like that in that cold month of November the swing stopped swinging altogether.
Suddenly, the rhythm was lost. There was neither the motion of the swing, nor the bridge of the talk. We tried to stop walking together, but our paths had already grown a little too intertwined for us to really walk apart. Soon enough, the words too began to sputter between us. Not the casual swing of sentences they used to be, but mere shoots of things we wanted we could say.
For two months we tried to walk apart. We almost succeeded, but never quite. And then before we knew, the paths twined together and led us back to our swing. And can children ever resist a good swing? We clambered on, and gingerly, swung ourselves off the ground. Before we knew it, we were swinging back and forth as before, a pendulum.
Winter turned to spring and spring to summer and we swung high in the air. And though we may stall now and then, sometimes like the hour hand of a watch, like a pendulum or a swing going back and forth, you can't help but end up where you began.
And it was on one of these walks that we encountered an empty swing. Children that we really are, we couldn't help but sit ourselves down on the plank. We reached down with our feet and pushed, off the swing lifted. We flew through the air, back and forth, like a pendulum. A stroke for every moment. It gathered momentum, we were scared. Suddenly all we wanted to do was stop. It was a bit much for both of us. And just like that in that cold month of November the swing stopped swinging altogether.
Suddenly, the rhythm was lost. There was neither the motion of the swing, nor the bridge of the talk. We tried to stop walking together, but our paths had already grown a little too intertwined for us to really walk apart. Soon enough, the words too began to sputter between us. Not the casual swing of sentences they used to be, but mere shoots of things we wanted we could say.
For two months we tried to walk apart. We almost succeeded, but never quite. And then before we knew, the paths twined together and led us back to our swing. And can children ever resist a good swing? We clambered on, and gingerly, swung ourselves off the ground. Before we knew it, we were swinging back and forth as before, a pendulum.
Winter turned to spring and spring to summer and we swung high in the air. And though we may stall now and then, sometimes like the hour hand of a watch, like a pendulum or a swing going back and forth, you can't help but end up where you began.
