Helping this little girl learn how to swing across the monkey bars brings back memories of the past. Every day at my preschool playground, I'd try to make it across those silver rungs. Just as she needs me to help her, I needed support from my teacher, my father, or whomever else was available at that moment. They would stand beneath me and hold onto my legs, assisting me with each swing forward.
Though it felt impossible, I grew a little stronger each day & after lots of practice, I eventually could cross those monkey bars all by myself.
I no longer needed anyone to hold me, but for the longest time, I still insisted on having someone stand there. I could now make the trek on my own, but I needed that comfort of knowing someone was there to give me the courage to keep on. Just in case I fell, they'd be there to catch me...
But in spite of all this, what I've always remembered most vividly about those monkey bars is the way the cold metal would sting my hands.