Swinging has always been rather nostalgic for me, as in my eyes it sort of represents the time of my childhood. All the times going to the park and sitting and swinging for hours; all the moments of innocence that have long since passed me. Growing up. "Push me, mommy!" "Look at me, momma!" "I can do it myself, mom." "Let's not go to the park today, ma." "Park? Are you completely loco, madre?" Now I'm a teenager, and going out of that stage fast, too. I look toward my past and reach to cling to it. Growing up is scary, but I've been heading in that direction for so long now that I'm almost used to the fear. That doesn't make me too adult to swing, and today, I did. On the swing in our backyard, one of the most peaceful places I could be. Maybe I did so just to clear my head, but I ended up making it fuller then when I started. A kick at the ground, movement of my legs, and suddenly I'm a projectile. Flying with no destination. I silently think that maybe if I let go, it'll take me to another place. Maybe Hawaii. Or Mars. Or someone else's backyard. There's a deep urge to let go, to simply just let go and fly and land, and take my chances with injury. Why I have this inclination, I don't know. The sun catches the movement of my hair, pieces of gold and black mingled with brown, an ocean of organic colors. Thrashing. Billowing. In my mind I see the hair turn gray, glittering silver on the wind of my existence, and I blink and it's gone. Up higher and higher, legs still moving, the sun striking as if it wants me to slow. I used to imagine that I could touch the sky with my toes, that I was committing this feat of excellence. I could, too, every single time. Then the demanding of praise from a parent would set in, and the both of us would laugh about it. But I'm by myself, no one to praise me for swinging so high, and the yearning for my childhood presents itself once again. I close my eyes, brace myself, hold in a breath and finally just let go of everything. The time in the air was like a million years, just floating, and then suddenly I hit the ground. A shockwave of pain courses through me, hitting every nerve ending, sinking into every pore, every hair follicle. I can feel the impact in my teeth. Searing pain in every single joint. I collapse to my knees, breathing hard, tears stinging my eyes. A shudder goes through me, and the pain ends. I'm alright, only my nerves frazzled form the jump. "Summer!" An upward look to my mother's face. "What are you doing?" A small lie. "Just...nothing." "Come inside, it's too hot out here." A secret smile as I follow her onto the porch, the kind of smile you get when you complete a task that's been plaguing you for a long time. I turn and look to the swing, still moving in my wake, and picture a little girl with pigtails on it, laughing. "Push me, mommy!" The internal smile widens, and my heart skips a beat. Childhood, so far from me, over the precipice of memory, and yet close enough I can taste it.