Elizabeth’s Swing

Last week was an incredible week. I worked on location in charming Beaufort, SC. Blissful sun. Riverside dining. Stunning lowcountry locations. A fantastic Emulsion Arts crew. As much fun as I had, it was nice to come home on Friday.

My friend Cathy was kind enough to drive us down so when we got back to Lexington Friday afternoon, I was itching to hop in my car and head home to Forest Acres. And then Cathy asked me if I wanted to go see Elizabeth.

You probably don’t know this but Elizabeth is a tree. I read about Elizabeth on Cathy’s blog months ago. I was aching to meet Elizabeth. Mostly for her swing that inspired one of my favorite sentences ever.

So off we went. Home would have to wait just a little while longer.

We moseyed across the neighbors’ yard, home of Elizabeth’s human friends, said hello to the dogs and there she was. She was just as beautiful as Cathy said. So singularly tall and graceful with thick strong roots. And there was that swing. Flat and wide with thick brown braided ropes that reached far up into the leaves.

You can’t look at a swing like that without trying it out. Well, you could just look at it but why on Earth would you? I hopped on and Cathy started to push.

Once I got going it was pure joy. No playground swing can ever compete with the long, graceful glide of that swing. It’s an entirely different level of lightness.

Contented and quiet, I swung under Elizabeth for a few more minutes, then dragged my heels to slow down. When I finally came to a stop, I sat there for a few minutes and savored the swing of that incredible swing. When I finally made my way to the car, the swing of that swing stayed with me. I was especially thankful for the inner peace Elizabeth gave because I was now tired, ready to be home and stuck in Friday afternoon downtown Lexington traffic.

Of Elizabeth, Cathy said, “The swing of that swing, it goes on forever.” She was so right. The most precious thing to me is that while the ride itself was delightful, what really sticks with you is the freedom of the slow, steady glide. It’s pure, smooth and so long you can feel it hours, days and, I bet, years after you come to a stop.

What a tremendous gift for anyone who has the privilege of meeting the tree named Elizabeth.