Playground Rules Apply
When I was a young girl, with the smell of Pink Hair Lotion and cocoa butter on my skin, I loved to swing the most. The wind in my beaded hair created a rhythmic swish sound with every push. I’d close my eyes and feel the warmth of the sun after being stuffed in a frigid school all day.
The relief would be immense. Unimaginable bliss.
In my imagination I was kissing the sun and pulling away for another moment. A million besitos would never suffice my love of the sun. I’d even lay out in a sunny spot for a nap and roll along with it.
On a swing though, I was brave for the first time in my life. But every space has it’s rules, and I am chaotically good.
The rules were simple:
- Don’t swing for too long.
- No claiming swings for your friend.
- Once your butt leaves the seat it’s free game. So get up fast if you want to go again.
I only followed the rules that benefitted me, but I was also shy and mean as a child. I would simply not leave the swing and ignore anyone who interrupted my stimming. I loved to swing the most. You’d have to drag me out, kicking and screaming…
According to My Calculations, I’m Brave AF
Necessary research was my forte as a child. I need to know. Don’t know why I was unable to let go of something I found interesting, it is the case that I would deep dive into random subjects. Rocks, frogs, food, and lizards were some of my favorites. But around 9 years old, I wanted to know how to jump off of a swing with no problems. Research was needed. Guinea pigs were mandatory:
- Brother – 11 years old. The coolest older brother a kid could have. Jumped off the swing in a backyard. Caught major air. He even did a tuck and roll. Landed on long, soft grass.
- La’Tisha – 10 years old. Jumped off the swing at the park and hurt her knee real bad. Jumped too low causing her legs to drag and she fell face first into the rubber pavement. Nasty skinned knee. She stayed away from the swings as long as I knew her.
- Trevor – 9 years old. Jumped off the swing at school. The chain snagged at the top multiple times before he jumped. It caught and made his jump go wonky. His arm got caught in the swing and it dragged him. His arm snapped when he landed. Ambulance and everything.
- BC – 11 years old. Brother’s friend. He jumped the farthest I’ve ever seen. He switched his grip, elbow out and launched himself across the playground catching major air. He landed with his feet in soft wood shavings hands on concrete. Minor hand scratches. Incredible jump.
With my research complete, I now needed to execute. I’d race to the swings every day just to be first to practice. At school we had the rubber pavement. That was too dangerous to jump but was perfect for practicing.
I knew I was going as high as I could when the chain would snag and create that erratic rocking. My goal was to swing as high as I could without the snag. If it did, I’d burst into laughter and hit the brakes Flintstone style. Silly me – pushing too hard. Take note, learn from this, and try again tomorrow.
Small hands gripping the plastic coated chain, I set my determination again. Push and pull. Drive hard and float back. At the very peak I turned my grip, elbow out… and feel the breeze. Let the anxiety leave me.
I practiced just this part to make sure I wasn’t scared when the time came. I would go to the park with the soft wood shavings for my best chance at not getting hurt, and I’d do it.
There is No Deeper Meaning
Dawn broke on the day I was meant to fly. I cheerfully counted the 126 cement blocks from the bus stop to the park after school. I was one of the first ones there.
My backpack landed next to the leg of the swing. I climbed aboard and walked it back. My mind was made, I’m going for it.
I’d kiss the sun and feel the rush of the wind around me. I heard some kids upset that I was swinging for too long. I didn’t care about them because I just got on. I knew some of them would try to grab my legs and stop me though, so it was now or never.
I locked in. Got to the perfect height with no snags. Switched my grip, elbow out. Gave one big push, and at the apex of swing’s height, I leapt with all my might.
The moment of flying felt priceless. My heart leaping into my chest. Sun beaming down. My braids floating behind me.
YAHOOOOO!
THUD
I landed on all fours in soft wood shavings.
One splinter – right palm between the ring and middle finger.
THAT WAS AWESOME!
I exclaimed internally. I plucked the splinter out without hesitation and happily shook my hands from side to side.
“Wow,” I whispered.
I turned around excited to go again. My smile faded.
I’ll Fly Again One Day
A boy had found his way onto my swing. His blonde hair flowed in the wind effortlessly. His mother pushed him with one arm while looking at me. Her expression was equal parts annoyed and mildly threatening. He obviously snitched that I was on the swing “too long.” I wanted to say something.
“I was still using that,” something cool like that. But my words rarely found their way out of my mouth at that age. My voice just didn’t work like other kids. Besides, her look told me she would not allow me to protest.
All of the other swings were taken. My siblings were no where in sight. So, I stood quietly by the leg of the swing to wait my turn.
My turn wouldn’t come before I had to leave. Dragging my backpack, I thought about that feeling all the way home. Flying like that was exhilarating, but I curse the kid who snitched. He swung way longer than me. It wasn’t fair, but life’s not fair. I should know that much.
People do that right? With the support of their enabling mothers, they take effortlessly.
I just wanted to be free.
I wanted to kiss the sun, fly high, and land in the safety of soft wood shavings.
– Z. Nova 2025