Swings.

Yesterday I was at the park with the two little girls that I nanny for and they LOVE to play on the swings. I always begrudgingly go to push them because I know how long I'll have to do it for, because for some reason the fun of being on a swing never gets old. You can only go down a slide so many times before you get utterly bored of the same routine, but something in a swing is pure magic. So after I gave Kylie one more big push, I decided to sit on the empty swing right next to her and start swinging myself. Instantly I was brought back to my childhood and the freedom that came along with getting higher and higher on that swing. I felt again like I was 8, "dating" Mindy as our swings soared towards the sky perfectly in sync, and then when we were the highest that we could possibly get we would count to three and jump off as far as we could. Obviously we would come crashing down most of the time (how on earth did we not break every bone in our body?) and then we would erupt in laughter and fight over who flew through the sky further. And then we would do it all over again until the street lights went on and we were forced to run home before dinner.

As I was swinging I started thinking about everything that was going on in my life and how simple it was to be at the park just playing, not working and the only stress in my life being trying to beat my brother at hide and seek. (I always cheated, Kai. It wasn't your fault you lost every time.) I was thinking about how consuming I have let my stress become and I started to crave those moments of freedom. Before I knew it I was swinging so high the little girls kept going "whoah, fancy trick! fancy move!" and so much of me wanted to swing as high as I could and then jump off and see what happened, just to see where I would land. 

The swings perfectly represent this period of my life. I feel like I'm pushing my hardest to get so high and then I jump off at my highest, most vulnerable point and hope that I land okay. Sometimes I crash and hurt myself and sometimes I land on my feet. And then I get up and do it all over again. Recently it's felt like I've crashed more than I've landed, that my heart has been broken more than it has been whole, but I think that's all just part of growing up. The bliss that comes with flying higher and higher in the air and the pain that comes with hitting the ground. It's such an interesting dichotomy to crave that freedom but then to learn to live with the discomfort that naturally comes with it. 

Growing up is so hard and I mostly just wish that I was back at the sports park playing with Mindy, Danny and Michael and being okay with whatever the outcome of our swing adventure was. However, it's still good to know that even if I come home crying, Mommy will still hold me and tell me it's all going to be okay.