The Swing

Photo by Klara Kulikova on Unsplash

When the kids were little, we took them to a Feather Down farm. They are scattered across the country. Giant Tepee tents, double beds with fluffy duvets, a wood burner, flushing toilet and private shower. Outside a large fire pit, a cast iron pot to suspend over the flames. We had ordered a stew meal to cook later that evening.

The campsites are small, usually 6 tents, next to a field of cows, chickens, sheep. A real working farm.

There were five other families.

Every morning, all the kids would go to the chicken coop and collect the eggs. My kids had to be quick, or the older ones would nab them all. I noticed a woman on her own, helping her boys scoop up the eggs, she looked tired.

Later that night, over a glass of wine at our shared outdoor space where we could socialise and cook pizza in the outdoor oven, she told me that her husband had just left her. It was out of the blue, she didn’t see it coming, he was having an affair.

She was upset, tears in her eyes, she looked drained, exhausted, tired.

I recognise myself in her now. But I didn’t take much notice of her at the time. I wish I had.

One day she walked over to my tent slowly, carefully carrying a pot of hot water and offered me some for a cup of tea, because it took so long to boil on the stove. I didn’t take it, I didn’t need it. I wish I had.

Now I am that single mum sitting on my own on holidays with my children being ignored.

One day we went on a walk through the woods. As I walked down the hill, I saw a tire swing rope tied to a large branch. The swing on a hill stretched out over a ravine beneath it.

Adventurous no more, but I thought I would try it. I jumped on the tire spontaneously and as it swung me out over the little hill, I felt a breeze on my face. I bent my knees and pushed my legs out far across the green grass below. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath in.

I felt alive, free, when the rope snapped beneath my weight tearing it and me down. I flew through the air, and as if in slow motion I somersaulted down the hill and landed on my neck in a crumpled heap of mess.

My daughter who was three at the time, screamed and cried. My son 5, was a bit ahead with his dad. Both came running up the hill. I was dazed, winded shocked.

I got up from the floor, said I was ok, although I didn’t feel ok, I didn’t think I had broken any bones.

I took my daughter back to the tent to calm her down.

As we walked up the hill and out of the forest, I saw a family standing at the top. I hoped they hadn’t seen my fall. I walked past them and mustered up a hi, I felt my cheeks flush red. I continued past them pretending like nothing had happened.

Inside our tent, on the table lay our delivery of stew, a basket of vegetables, a bottle of red to cook with. I had other ideas.

I opened the wine, poured a large glass, drank it all and poured another. Sitting in stunned silence, whilst my daughter played with the chickens. I saw my life flash in front of me and I cried.

The following day, we went on a tour of the farm, the farmer’s parents were talking about the importance of safety on their farm. I felt embarrassed as I thought about what had happened to me the day before.

Later that night the kids and I took a trip to the Honesty Shop, it was full of local produce, ice creams, chocolate, crisps, marshmallows and more.

I took ice creams and marshmallows and ticked it off on a hanging piece of paper that had our family name on it.

Later that night after supper, we roasted them over the fire and I thought to myself, I’ll never go on a rope swing for as long as I live. I licked the gooey hot melted marshmallow from my lips. I was ready for bed.

I never saw that single mum again, I was her.

• Have you ever been someone before you knew it?

• Have you ever been on holiday and felt unexpectedly alone?

Thank you to everyone who read my last post. I’m feeling incredibly supported by the Substack community. Thank you to everyone who has subscribed and bought me a coffee, it really means a lot.

How Do You Manage Everyday Life: Dementia, Birthday Parties and Everything Else

If you enjoyed this post, don’t forget to press that little heart! 💖 I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to share and comment. Your support means the world!