For me, these images tell the tale of his early years. Since he was an infant, he has been at his happiest when swinging. First, from his baby swing - with its soft music playing as it rocked him back and forth in the warmth of our living room. Then the baby swings at the park -- where his first experience had him falling asleep after 20 silent minutes of me pushing him under a bright blue sky. A memory I'll always have. And then, our decision to buy him his own swing to hang from the big storybook tree next to our house. A tree with just the right branch for swinging from. Our springs and summers are marked with memories of this swing and his never-ending desire to keep going higher. "I want to swing! Push me, Daddy!"
Our little swinging boy. Who is at his happiest in nature, content with the world around him, in awe and wonder at the sky above, the flowers below and the animals in the trees overhead. Who can hang from this tree branch and let nothing but the breeze sway him, with his head tilted back and his eyes always looking up.
By the end of the year, he will reach the weight capacity for the little blue swing. It's our last baby item in use and a sign of the chapter we're about to close. I'm going to miss it so much. We're going to do a lot of tree swinging this summer.