Two summers ago my friend Carmyn and I were pulling down overgrown vines on the side of the house. She hates this kind of stuff but I always seem to “rope” her into helping me with household tasks. The vines were so stuck, so steadfast, that we thought it best to go ahead and do some swinging on them just to see if they’d hold our weight. Imagine the sight, two thirty-somethings swinging from vines yelling Tarzanisms.
Later, we pulled out a Barbie and hid her amongst the vines. Let’s just say she was a bit more successful at vine swinging than we were.
Then, last summer, we headed to Cass Lake to be with our friend Lori, her daughter Rachel, and Rachel's grandparents. They took us out to an island and an old rope up on a sand hill. I was thrilled, yet somewhat dismayed, to see the ease at which five, six, seven and eight year olds could manage the whole swinging thing. They looked as graceful as Barbie, but much more joyful and strong – as little girls should be. They’re the true trapeze girls.
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