The Rope Swing
SiamakVossoughi A rope swing that goes out over a body of water is good, but failing that, one that extends out over the slope of a sand dune is not a bad substitute. Especially, Amir thought, when the boys that you are pushing out on that swing are six, and it is a quiet spot in the Presidio of San Francisco, with the bay nearby, and someone has put a rope swing up at the perfect spot for real daring to be required for a little boy to fly out and let go and fall and roll in the deep sand. He had come down here with the kids from the school before and he had never seen the swing before. Now it was Aaron’s birthday and Aaron’s mother had asked if he could help. It was Eddie who knew about the swing, and he was also the one who was willing to fly out the farthest before the drop. It wasn’t such a great distance for a grown man to fall into the sand, but for a boy of six, it was a magnificent height. The swing hung from a branch of a tree whose roots were above the earth, and Amir helped each boy balance on a root in order to grab hold of the swing. Holding each boy before his turn to make sure his grip was tight, he became whichever boy whose turn it was. He became Eddie Gallardo before pushing Eddie out, and Eddie was no longer the kid who’d broken his watch band twice by jumping on him from behind in the yard, not that he minded that, because it was nice to be known at the watch repair shop as the young man who came in because kids were always jumping on him from behind. He became Declan McAleese, and Declan was no longer the boy he worried about for his absolute refusal to cry