Swing High Swing Low

“All our lives we are engaged in preserving our experiences and keeping them fresh by artificially sprinkling the water of memory over them. They have ceased to retain their original smell and fragrance. Do you call it life— this effort at the preservation of a phantom freshness in something that is withered and gone?” ~Vimala Thakar



the night before my mom passed there was a big fight among all us kids….really a silly blow up over nothing …nothing …but it was enough to bring everyone to their breaking point …when it came time to tell my mom I was sorry … I decided not to sleep that night … for hours I sang to her and talked to her even though her eyes were closed…I promised her that if I was there when she passed …..I would sing her across … I did sing her across the following night …

this photo was taken a few days after her funeral..everytime I look at it …… I remember how many times after her death I would see a swing …sometimes it would be swinging in the wind and others it would be hanging broken …but it always took me back to why I picked the song to sing to her that night…..
When I was a little girl we lived with my grandmother ….the only friend we had lived across the street….she lived with her grandmother as well….her grandmother had two porch swings on her front porch …we could play on the swings as long as we did not jump out of them….we would take and swing back and forth toward each other and sing .Swing High …Swing Low..singing higher with each level of the swing ……my mom would be sitting across the road sitting on my grandmothers glider swing and she would call us home by saying …..girls let the Angels in Jordan go to sleep now ..it is time to come home ….when I look at the photo even the chains that keep it hanging in the tree remind me of the ties to the pass …the notes of the song will never leave my heart …..I hope there are trees and swings in heaven ….and angels singing swing high ..swing low


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