With every swing she ages—sometimes younger by a minute, sometimes older by a generation—away she swings, back she falls, away. I stand on widespread feet, in sneakers on sand, in one spot for hours, pushing, waiting, pushing, but even I, bending with her impact on the backswing, heaving her ahead on the forward swing, am not still. I cannot do just this. My feet are not fixed; I dance in place. I roam. The playground pulses with mothers and daughters who don’t trade places, but half the time I think I’m the one on the swing. This is not who I thought I would be. I know my daughter knows the precipitous moment when the swinger thinks that this time—despite the million times it hasn’t happened—that this time the swing will continue to rise and not come back. I push too hard sometimes to help her strive toward that release. I shouldn’t. We all come back. The swing itself corrects me. It lets her rise beyond the plane until, still rising, she is traveling backwards. The trip back down from there is quick and sickening; it yanks the slack chains taut until they bounce her back into the curve. The falling is dreadful. The landing is worse. I force it when I need to go, when the other mothers’ pity overwhelms me, when she will not say, It’s enough, Mommy, we can go. She doesn’t cry. She goes rigid, goes silent, and won’t swing her feet. I let her pendulum wind down until I can catch her in my arms without falling. Did you go too high? I ask her, grateful to have and to hold her, feeling my balance return. I never tell her she’s had enough. I wait for her to tell me.
Copyright © August 31, 2008 David Hodges
10 comments
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August 31, 2008 at 2:08 pm
meena iyer
whoa! too good! a simple post in first glance.. but can have deeper meaning 🙂
A simple swing story and yet not
Thank you meena. Now if only I could make difficult things simple.
–David
August 31, 2008 at 7:00 pm
Hoda Zaki
The depth of those phrases makes one STOP and think: “But if these chains should break,” “until I catch her in my arms without falling,” “grateful to have and to hold her,” “feeling my balance return”…. Yes….it’s a mother’s feelings of love, fear, and protectiveness, regardless of her child’s age.
The analogy of the swing and a child’s life (at least that’s how I read it) is perfect.
Great story, David.
Thank you so much, Hoda. Maybe as our children age, the job is more about taking turns on the swing.
–David
August 31, 2008 at 8:54 pm
grantman
..having just walked my Daughter down the aisle, I too am in a “grateful to have and to hold her” mode…very good piece. As for both Fathers and Mothers, truly one day you do have to let go, but regaining your balance takes a while…quite a while….
grantman
Congratulations, Grantman! What a thrill that must have been. And what a classic scene of “letting go,” to literally hand her off to another man! Good luck with your balance problems. Hope you have somebody to help you off the swing.
–David
August 31, 2008 at 9:56 pm
briseis
….oh, David, this is just lovely and sad and heartwarming all at once. I can’t really explain how this touched me. It’s beautiful, and more than beautiful. It’s you and it’s your writing at its very finest.
Thank you for writing this.
Well, of course you are very welcome, Briseis. Thank you for writing that!
–David
September 2, 2008 at 12:40 am
wizzer
.. now if I could just work out why the other mothers pitied her!
I loved this one – really touching
Thanks, Wizzer. I don’t think I gave you enough to work out that riddle.
–David
September 2, 2008 at 2:50 am
litlove
A kind of masterclass in the extended metaphor and scarily insightful into motherhood, David. Gorgeous and very poignant.
I hope the travelling went well and that you had a fun-filled Labor Day!
So happy to see you back after your self-imposed exile, Litlove! Thank you for your kind words and good wishes. Travel was enriching, Labor Day far too laborious. As for motherhood, I only gather what I gather.
–David
September 8, 2008 at 9:21 am
Jamaican Dawta
I’m always amazed at your skill to condense so much meaning and depth into so few words. I love the dynamics you’ve created between the swing, its motion, the child and her mother, and their relationship. Simple, yet complex.
Thank you very much, Jamaican Dawta. I don’t know why it’s important to limit my words to so few, but I’m delighted you find them so rich.
–David
September 11, 2008 at 1:58 pm
briseis
Have I mentioned that this one is beautiful? And a little tragic?
You have, yes, Briseis. I find it’s just as sweet to hear a second time. Thank you.
–David
September 12, 2008 at 8:37 am
petesmama
I find this beautiful. And well worth the wait because you’ve been away for a while. I love that it is simple and different from a lot of what has come before, but just as powerful.
Thank you, petesmama! (If only I didn’t feel such pesky responsibility to my new students, I’d be posting a new Novel every three or four days as usual. When will they stop needing my attention!) That’s very kind of you.
–David
September 6, 2009 at 9:28 pm
Crystal
=) This is great! Such a wide topic in such a short time frame. Fun fun fun!
Well, thank you, Crystal. I’m glad you enjoyed it, and Welcome to Very Short Novels!
–David