I was thinking of a location where I could take a photo of my mom and nephew before he go back to his Dad. As the tricycle passed by the Airport Hotel, I saw a yellow swing. It was the right location.
The sight of the swing brought back childhood memories. I remember riding the swing with a seat made of rubber in Saint Agnes' Academy. I sat on the swing every time I go to school on early mornings. I stayed on the swing until students arrive one at a time. I also remember the swing in our home. Dad built it. It was made of wood where two seats faced each other. We would sit there with our childhood friends and maids from the apartment in our compound.
The sight of the swing brought back childhood memories. I remember riding the swing with a seat made of rubber in Saint Agnes' Academy. I sat on the swing every time I go to school on early mornings. I stayed on the swing until students arrive one at a time. I also remember the swing in our home. Dad built it. It was made of wood where two seats faced each other. We would sit there with our childhood friends and maids from the apartment in our compound.
My nephew will no longer experience the swing my Dad built. He will only see it from old pictures. I hope my brother will make a similar one for his son.
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| Grandma and Grandson on the swing. |
Looking at the photo inspired me to write a poem dedicated to my nephew. Within the five months my nephew was in Daraga, I and my mom only shared a few rare moments with Third. And the yellow swing at the airport was a precious bonding with our one year and a few days old charming nephew.
Swing
As you stand still on the swing
As you hold on to the chains
As the sun shines
I will always be beside you
As you go up in the air
As you go down on the ground
As raindrops fall
I will always be beside you
As the cadence goes a little faster
As the earth moves a little closer
I will always be beside you
I will always be beside you
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