![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOU9n-ku4KL6xWM6xjydRKW8kyDRkPu18Tjb9UD5MBEfT5kLNCP2FO9ip-luSqj_Vbhl6qSWqE5XtGL3lkyTR7ZsaVqdAgacgHJFdIR1dS2QBWFTWO8zXe0OtcxEmuHRcHFSYndOkeQI0/s320/54.+swinging.jpg)
Swinging is kind of an official stamp of childhood. The sound of squeaky swings is a familiar one in summertime. An empty but moving swing is a symbol of childhood tragedy in the media. The motion of swinging is known to calm infants and be intolerable for extended periods of time for most adults. Thus, swinging is a relatively certain symbol of childhood and one that I enjoy very much. I can't handle swinging very high for very long, but every time I find myself sitting on a swing, I get nostalgic and deep and start thinking at a level that I don't normally fall into. Swinging. Dontcha miss it?
Today's Sunny Thing?
Swinging
I used to swing as high as I could and then jump out. It was like flying for a moment. Until the time I landed on my face--not so fun.
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