There's something about the swing.
Swinging.
Back and forth. Back and forth.
Childhood. In a nutshell.
Back and forth.
" 'wing Poppa. 'wing," River says.
"Push Poppa. PUSH." Khona says.
"Push Poppa. PUSH." River says.
"From behind. From behind."
"Me. PUUUSSH." "No me. PUSH."
And they go. Back and forth.
"HIGHER. Poppa. HIGHER."
And it is so simple. The whoosh of the air blows past.
Nothing to think about. Back and forth.
"POPPA! HIGHER!"
And then Khona pumps. Legs bent. And straight.
And she's swinging herself.
Without a push. Without her Dad. On her own.
Legs bent. And Straight. Pump. Higher. And higher. On her own.
And I let her go in that moment.
She can do it. She is doing it.
And they would swing forever. Keep it going.
An endless childhood. Back and forth.
Back and forth.
"STOP!"
"Let's jump on the trampatreen Poppa." River says.
"Jumpy. Jumpy."
