Swing a Song For Me
There's a swing round these here parts. It's attached to a very high tree branch, so one can theoretically swing quite far, but not without leverage.
When it was put up two years ago, a bunch of picnic tables and even a bookshelf were stacked, and people would wait in line to jump off. Scary the first time....well, the bookshelf was always scary, but you realized that your feet would automatically stand on the swing when you jumped. Swing Brings Joy, ran the headline in the newspaper. Seems silly, but it really did.
The swing actually got me and my girlfriend back together. While we didn't technically break up, we were damn close. But we jumped off the swing together, and stayed together. It was adorably cute, I suppose.
At some point, the people in charge of that sort of thing realized that the stacked picnic tables might be unsafe. So the swing has been sitting alone, without the high jumping.
Until yesterday, that is. The picnic tables have been restacked. The swing is back in business. But I seem to be the only person who cares. Are todays firstyears so boring? Am I the only one who realizes the simple, joyous rush? Sad for them, but happy for me.