All the Birds
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By Gadi C.
All the birds have flown up and gone;
A lonely cloud floats leisurely by.
We never tire of looking at each other -
Only the mountain and I.
--Li Po
The girl on the swing flew up and down as the wind coiled her braids like a wedding gown. A lonely cloud shifted up above her. She bragged to her friend on the carousel that she could go higher than her. Higher than anyone and everyone, in fact, she could swing as high as she wanted, than all other kids. When her friend boarded the other swing, she already knew that she was right.
And she was. The girl was higher than her friend. The swing creaked under her weight, under the motion of the swing, and when the half circle almost came full circle the friend screeched with admiration.
Of course, as little kids they both attempted to come full circle. But now it seemed that only one was closer than the other has ever been.
The wind blew in from the west, and they traded swings, just to ensure that nothing was wrong with either swing, that she could achieve the same feat on another swing. And as she repeated the cycle, another boy came to watch, apprehensive. Her feet were fluttering around like feathers.
“I can go higher than that,” the boy swanked, “easily.”
As her friend climbed down and the boy climbed on, the girl was terrified. What would happen if he was right and she was wrong? What if he could come full circle, while she never will? The breeze was flickering leaves at her, and she bounced her feet to catch a rhythm, and started to swing furiously until her feet gave out. She looked to the north and watched as the boy also began to cease. He wasn’t even close.
“I could. I really could.” He cried as he walked away. “I ain’t lying. It happened before. I promise!”
Soon, a short line of kids stood next to the swing. The girl competed against every livid one; every child that climbed onto the swing fully-prepared and blissful came down irritated and fruitless. They came to the line like balloons, big and brave, prepared to fly upwards; but the girl popped each and every one of them and they all danced in the wind, broken. Each and every one gawked at the girl with envy and repulsion. By the end of the day, all the children in the neighborhood gave up on the swings and the only true champion was the girl.
In every house except hers, a young boy or girl was sulking about the playground competition. He would yell at his parents about how the girl beat him, how she brought him down to the ground. How he failed. How she won, he lost. And as the evening carried on, the parents would blow their sacred balloon to its full size and again, prepare them for the next day, that maybe another child could win, another child could come full circle on the swing.
The next afternoon the girl leaped on the swing while her friend was watching. She was only a little green-eyed, but more praiseful. A new line formed next to the other swing, but with the same balloon-heads as the last time trying to regain their status on the swing set. There were several older kids too. Bullies, teenagers, even high-school students forgot about their homework in order to defeat the girl.
Again, she crushed them. When the last boy shot off the swing irately, the girl on the swing simpered. Her friend waited next to her, for her to climb off. To play a different game, now that she already showed the other kids.
But the girl on the swing remained there. She asked for her friend to fight her again, to see which one was better. After several attempts of persuasion, she watched her friend walk off like the first boy, without looking back, towards the houses. Now, the girl was all alone on her swing.
The next day after school, the girl was waiting patiently on the swing, excited to conquer the neighborhood kids once again. She sat on the swing, hunting for a silhouette crossing the field to fight against her. She waited desperately, but every time she saw a shape drawing towards her, it disappeared in the distance. Maybe someone will come, her heart beat! But her mind already understood. She swung by herself, lingering hopefully for anybody. If an adult would come, that would be okay with her. She was still the best!
Then, she closed her eyes and thought, Please—I don’t care who would come! Just someone I could swing against! Even if I lose.
Dark was the only thing that came to her. The sky was a spider web of lilac and indigo, a depressing combination reflected on the blades of grass floating in the icy draft. Maybe, to wait just a bit more! But she decided to swing one more time. And then, it happened—she cried with joy!—the wind slapped her face forcefully, callously as it happened, as her legs swayed upside down in the air. She came full circle! Now she was higher than anyone, everybody, all the neighborhood kids, all the adults, even all the mountains and planes, than all the birds in the world. She was higher than God himself.
All of a sudden she was tired. She would tell her friend about it tomorrow, she would! And her friend would congratulate her. As she walked away from the swings, she lingered hopefully in those thoughts. Success never tasted so bad.
Let's see what I can do with this, shall we?
