It hurts

*None of us ever knew who tied the rope. One summer it was clearly new; another summer it had always been there, shining confident safety against an old tree branch. Someone decided it was safe – someone put it here. We’re good.
Have you ever thought about what would happen if you threw a bicycle into the river, without a seat, just a bar set loose?
A bike that settled into the Grand River, quietly, too close to a Rope Swing? Just a piece of steel, pointing up. No banana seat.

Chris screamed.

We hadn’t practiced First Aid nearly enough. Ambulances are not bicycles; the protection that you sought in the trees becomes a suit of armour you can’t take off quick enough while you’re being boiled.

We stopped swinging after that summer