Tipping Point and The Childhood Tree

Tipping Point by Hannah Mueller

It was a muggy August day, the kind of day that sucks the life right out of you.  The birds, refusing to stir from their nests, chirped lackadaisically.  Big bumblebees buzzed by, unconcerned with the humans below.  Children lolled in the shade, enjoying their last peaceful days before school started in September.  Even the wind was reluctant to disturb the sluggishness of the afternoon leaving the air to hang like a dense cloud around the town.  One hand on the brim of a floppy sunhat and the other holding an iced tea, I observed all of this from the comfort of a wicker rocking chair on my back porch.  

I reached for a pen and notebook and was searching for inspiration when out of the corner of my eye, I spotted something swinging back and forth high above the ground.  I turned to stare at the rapid movement that defied the stagnant atmosphere.  Perched on a tire swing in the trees was a young girl.  While any exertion on a day like today seemed impossible, climbing to a swing high in the trees seemed downright absurd. 

The Childhood Tree by Hansen Bursic

I continued to watch the girl as she soared higher and higher.  At first, her head was tilted downward as she watched the ground moving beneath her, now rushing up to meet the swing, now retreating again.  She grew more confident with each passing swing.  She took one hand off the rope that tied the tire to the tree branch.  She placed both feet on the top of the tire and stood up, her hair whipping around her head like Medusa’s.  Finally, she held both hands straight out from her sides to feel the wind between her fingers.  The only thing connecting her to the tire was the rope pressed taut against her chest and her toes curled around the rubber rims.  It belatedly dawned on me that she was swinging to escape the oppressive stillness of the day.  

By this point, any fool with eyes could see she was destined to fall.  Standing on a swing without holding on is all well and good as long as you are moving forward, but when the swing changes direction you are bound to tumble right off of it.  

No sooner had this thought crossed my mind than she reached the peak of her momentum and the tire swing was suspended in midair.  Time froze for an instant, and I thought it was just possible that this child could somehow resist gravity and remain frozen there forever.  After all, nothing else was moving today.  Would it be so strange if the swing were to give in to the overwhelming feeling of the day and simply stop?

But then the swing began to move backward and her body kept on moving forward.  I saw the panic in her eyes as she realized her mistake but it was too late; the swing had left her behind.  Off balance, she pitched forward and fell head first.  The eight foot drop took an eternity, as if the very air dreaded her descent as much as I did.  Her forehead hit the ground first, followed closely by her right wrist and shoulder.  Finally, almost comically, her back curved and her legs slammed into the ground.

Naturally, I sprang out of my chair, iced tea flying everywhere.  I distantly heard the glass shatter, but I ran so fast I was halfway to the girl at that point.  When I reached her she was face down, motionless, on the ground.  I bent down and tapped her shoulder lightly.  She didn’t stir. I didn’t want to shake her or move her - what if she were paralyzed?  What if she were dead?  I am not a doctor; I didn’t know what to do.  I stood over her for a moment, fearing the worst, when to my great relief she rolled over and opened her eyes.  

I let out a breath that I hadn’t realized I had been holding and glanced around at the surrounding environment.  Nothing had changed: the birds barely fluttered their wings, the bees hadn’t even stopped to observe the spectacle.  I had no way of knowing whether five seconds or five minutes had passed.  The atmosphere may have been the same, but for this girl—and for me—the serenity of the day was irrevocably shattered.