After a long time today, I set foot in a park. And swung on a swing, if that is how it is called. The park had a huge iron bridge, that we had to cross. And quite steep it was too..I slipped a couple of times and clutched at the hand rail a little cautiously. And glanced enviously at the little kids who scampered past me and over the bridge without a thought.
I would be lying if I said that I wasnt apprehensive as I approached the swings. But excitement overcame the apprehension and I tied up my dupatta and lightly sat on the swing, and tested it for weight, I was quite ok.
At first it felt pretty weird, because its been a while, but pretty soon I was swinging like a pro. The swing wasnt quite built for adults, and was, thus, quite low. I had to fold up my legs appropriately to achieve the momentum I wanted. And soon, I was laughing as I achieved higher heights. Im sure some people were quite startled to see an adult swinging on a child's swing right in the middle of a park, but that didnt quite matter.
Unfortunately, as much as I would like to go back to the age when I could swing for hours together, I must accept otherwise. In about ten minutes, my head was slightly spinning. And I had to stop, or risk throwing up. I sighed. I would have liked to swing a little longer.
As I walked back, it struck me that as time passes, we lose smaller moments like these, ones that we cherished when we were younger. The swings, dripping ice cream, playing silly games, and chasing each other around. I recaptured one, if only for a short while. Maybe Ill just drip ice cream all over and run around for a while.