Swing-System

When I was very young we use to live in a different house. My parents had rented a home in the mountains. We had a large back yard, a dog, and the house had a second floor. At that time we would hold parties that the whole family would attend. It was when we were the closest, and possibly the furthest apart.
My sister was celebrating a birthday, probably her third, and it was a hot summer day. She was given a swing set that my father decided to hang in the archway between the kitchen and the living room. There was a toy in my hand, some sort of contraption that had a yellow, plastic punching fist/glove attached to a yellow structure. There was a trigger that when pulled, the fist would spring out and the one using it would be able to jab another as much as a plastic punching fist could handle.
I was placed in the yellow fisher-price swing with the blue handle-guard as my sister had volunteered to show me how this device worked. I don't think she had mastered the art of letting go, nor the art of understanding the swing, as her way of demonstrating her knowledge was physically pushing and pulling me without releasing the rope, but moving me none the less.
Once she had gotten board of explaining the swing, she had abandoned me for our fisher-price kitchen set where her and cosine Patrick had take the liberty of cooking everyone a delightful plastic meal.
My God-mother Anne had replaced Marlo’s profession of ‘swing-pusher’. My gram Bucko was seated near me, holding the punching-contraption. As I would swing forward Grammy would pull the trigger and the punching glove would extend to meet my tummy. As I'd reach the climax of the swing I would tense my arms to my chest knowing she was going to get me. As the toy touched me she would let out a "Boop," sound.
Excitement ran through me and I would cry out the most tickled giggle that one could imagine possible. Every swing became an enjoyment; every ebb and flow was bliss. Swinging forward, 'Here it comes,' "Boop!" Laughter fills the room. Swinging backwards, 'here we go again. Getting closer. Oh God!' "Boop!" Laughter all over again. This simple pleasure is most enjoyable, but more so of it's little need for complex entertainment.
The wisdom I find in this swing-system gives me hope for darker times. If we focus merely on the moment that’s most enjoyable, daily life can become pure happiness. The initial swing we're in the moment, getting closer and closer until we reach climax. When we’re there we love every bit that we can consume. Then the back swing is our opportunity to realize we're only getting moment-by-moment, closer to the time we return to that forward swing. Ebb-getting ready for it; Flow-Enjoying every minute.