Saturday morning, my daughter came up to me where I was working and announced that it was a beautiful day outside. We shouldn’t waste it with work. The amusement factor of the five year-old’s pronouncement was tempered by the knowledge that she was right.
It was a picture perfect morning outside. 75 degrees, sunny and breezy and while I was still getting over my bout with bronchitis, I was feeling much better. I asked her what she wanted to do and she said she wanted to go to the park and swing.
We got our shoes and I grabbed my keys and we headed out. There’s a park that’s about a four-minute walk from our front door. She didn’t want to take the car, even when I reminded her that she hated walking back when we were done.
She told me it was a beautiful day and that walking was good for us. Since I’d said this a hundred times myself, I’m sure she was just parroting. But I want her to believe that as much as I do, so we left the car and walked.
It was great walking to the park. We picked up some litter here and there along the way and dumped it into trashcans. Once we got to the park, we found that we had most of it to ourselves. She ran around and climbed on the equipment and slid down the slides a few times.
But now it was time for the swings. She wanted me to push her and so I got her started and then talked her through the legs forward; legs back swing to keep her moving on her own.
After a few false starts, she started getting the hang of it. I was enjoying standing there in the sunshine, feeling the breeze on my face and giving her the occasional push. When to her delight and my own, I got on the swing next to hers and started swinging myself.
I’d forgotten just how much fun it is to get on a swing and follow the arc of back and forth. There’s a feeling that I’ve also described as being close to flying when you pick up speed. That feeling is still there and after an hour on the swings, I felt like a new person – my daughter can’t wait to make me go to the park again.