The Child and the Swing
Yesterday, while watching a little girl in a pink bonnet and pink mittens, her soft- creamy scarf knotted neatly on her neck, with her hands gripping the chain attach to the swing, swung freely and cheerfully--- I saw her smiles, her small-uneven teeth and her unexplained happiness- how pure were her smiles, her deepest blue eyes admiring every pushed her mother made. Pure laughter. Little giggles. Pure child. Pure heart.
Admiring the view and listening to her sweet laughter, my eyes were glued not on the child alone. My mind wanders through the swing, it was coming back and forth. Back and forth. The squeaking of metal, the rattling of the chains. The sounds. The snowflakes. And, the winds. Did she mind at all? She didn’t noticed. Careless. Carefree. And, happy.
How I thought? How I wonder? Like the child and the swing, it described its meaning. Like me and the time. I was swinging through time, catching all the events of my life, watching the snow coming and going, wishing it to go away- never even appreciate its glory. How ungrateful I become? Catching the bus, chasing the train, running back and forth in the subway. Did I even appreciate the day? How I dream that like a child I can laugh purely as the winter pours? Like a child I can giggle the day as the time goes, like a child I let the time comes and enjoy it as far as it goes.
Yes, you can never buy the time. You can’t retrieved it, either. But, would I barter my happiness because I’m catching and moving to and fro with time?
Like a child, how I dream to enjoy every ride….of my life!
Photo Credit: Shutterstock, K. Griffin and Skip O Donnel