Two empty swings face the Androscoggin River, waiting for children to come. Day after day as the snow falls and the wind blows and the ice grows, the swings wait silently. Memories of joy and laughter still ring in the air, but the people are all gone now, gone to warmer climates, and the swings wait in empty anticipation. They are always ready to go; they just need someone to get on.
The swings are a reminder to us, a reminder that there were
warm and playful days in the past. They
are a reminder to us that those warm and playful days will come again in the
future. What of the present,
though? The past is done and over, and
the future has not occurred and is not set in stone. What do the swings do in the present? For me, they are a reminder of potentiality,
of what can be--not just in the future but at any time. They are a reminder that days do not have to
be perfect and warm in order to enjoy them.
Days can be cold and wet and difficult, but they still carry their
swings with them and we can still swing.
Many a time I have donned a very thick coat with thick
leggings and boots. I have gone to the
swings, brushed the snow off them, and with my scarf tied tightly around my
neck and lower face, I have swung and swung.
If we look for perfect or exclusive days, we miss so many opportunities
to swing right here and now. There’s a
swing waiting for you every day. You
just have to get on it, push with your feet a bit, and then fly upward. It sounds a bit complicated, but once you get
on, it will all come back to you.
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| Two lonely swings at the Androscoggin River. |
