It might be time for it to go.
It was constructed in 2007. A friend drove his truck, equipped with the requisite tools, into the backyard. The advantage of living in the country with acreage.
Jamie was 1 and Jack 4. The cedar wood not only sparkled with freshness but it smelled great too. I recall swinging on it by myself that first night, staring back at our house with an overwhelming feeling of contentment.
We ate lunch together underneath the slide, until the bees inevitably arrived.
I taught them how to properly jump off a swing and captured action shots with my new camera.
We willingly played along when my son insisted we each needed to portray a different Wiggles character as we slid and as we swung. He was always Anthony, the blue guy, and I was jealous. Anthony was charming and witty and the best looking. I agreed to be Murray, the tall goofy red one.
My daughter had no fear as I continued to up how high I’d push her on the swing. A foreshadowing of our eventual shared love for rollercoasters.
We had a tradition of swinging together after midnight on New Year’s Eve. And never allowed the winter weather to stop us.
And then …
The cedar slowly faded from beige to gray.
The posts began to sink.
The chains rusted.
The weeds became too much to manage.
Other activities became a higher priority.
At one point I considered growing vegetables on vines around the entire structure as a means to give it a new purpose. But gave up after deeming it too much work.
We never celebrated a ceremonious last swing or last trip down the slide.
Both swing seats have busted in two and the entire playground is a hazard zone. One more wind gust and it may collapse upon itself.
I haven’t been able to bring myself to finish it off. I still enjoy it as a background feature in the backyard, remembering when. My last attempt to grasp on to their collective childhoods.
But it’s time. It’s time to move on. My son signed off. My daughter signed off. My wife signed off. And now I’m ready. I’m ready to burn the wood symbolically as we all sit around the fire and talk about impending graduations and future plans.
Although I did witness a red-shouldered hawk eating a snake on top of the swing set while working yesterday. After I had started this post. A sign to allow it to remain? Allow the birds to continue to hang there? Isn’t that what Mother Nature would want?
Hmm.
