Reministream: The Swing

My crude drawing of the swing.

One of the most dangerous contraption in a playground is the swing. This is really too sad because it is also one of the most enjoyable...for me, at least.

As a child, I had a couple of harrowing experiences that involved swings. You see, when I was young, our "yaya" or nanny, would take me and my sister to the village's playground which used to be three houses away from our home ( a big three-story house now stands in it's place...pity). There, we would go on the swing and play in the sand with some of the children from the neighborhood. 

I remember the first time I got into a swing accident. I was just walking along behind the set of swings, minding my own business, and then suddenly --- boom --- a swing hit me on the back of my head. Some kid had been swinging really high with such energy and gusto and I failed to see the swing crashing down over me. I went home that day with a bleeding head. I don't remember how my mom reacted when she heard the news, though. 

A few years later, the swing caught me off guard once again. This time, I got hit on the top of my head. I remember volunteering to push my sister while she was on the swing. As she gained height and momentum, I didn't realize that the swing had swung too high that when I moved closer to push the swing once again, it came crashing down on top of me. Again, I went home with blood gushing in torrents out of my head. I remember how my sister cried her heart out that day because she thought she'd killed me. Even though I had blood squirting out of my head and it looked like it needed plumbing to get the blood to stop, I was laughing it off. It didn't hurt at all. I was telling my sister that I would be okay, that it was just a wound. I remember it so vividly until now (proof that my skull might have been bashed open but at least I still had my brain intact)! What I still don't remember was how my mom reacted to the news once again, but I do remember that she had to cut and shave off the hair surrounding the gash, put some white cream on it (Zinc Oxide, I believe...it wasn't the first or last time I got that cream on my head) and a bandage. I don't remember ever being brought to the hospital...I think I was more afraid of the doctor than of dying...yes, I was the one who did not want to go and get my head checked. If I turn out to be crazy because of all those head injuries I have had throughout the years...well, all I can say is that in this case, ignorance is bliss!

I can't imagine now how my mom must have felt whenever she'd come home from work only to hear about my swing incidents...more proof that we weren't the boring part of her life, hehe.

Now that I think about it, those swing incident didn't really traumatize me because even now, as an adult, whenever I'd see a swing I would still happily get on it...consequences be damned. ;-p