It' Don't Mean a Thing

A lonely red and blue baby swing had dangled from the gingko tree in Clara Grace’s backyard for months. Her mommy and daddy had paid two dollars for the swing at a yard sale the previous summer. Their shrewd bargaining was a good thing since it had taken twenty dollars for the rope and chain needed to string it up. The gingko’s leaves had turned yellow and fallen to the ground by the time Clara Grace finally arrived. During the long pregnancy and exciting first days of Clara Grace’s life, her mommy often pictured her daughter in that swing for the very first time.

It is when she voices excitement about things like this that mothers of older children often chide her for wishing away the baby’s early moments. Though Clara Grace’s mommy nods politely, she secretly believes there must be a way to enjoy each of her daughter’s moments while at the same time looking forward to each of the coming changes and experiences. That long anticipated first swing ride finally became the present moment On February 12. Clara Grace’s mommy and daddy took turns pushing their baby back and forth. She laughed when daddy twisted the ropes, causing the swing to spin gently as it arched away from him. Clara Grace’s mommy listened and made a mental note to pick up a tire if they should happen to chance upon one at this summer’s yard sales. She smiled, picturing a tire suspended from the same sturdy branch and the little girl with curly brown hair and the same light blue eyes giggling as she whirled and spun beneath the gingko.