once upon a tree swing

our old house was built in the middle of a large lot with wide open spaces allowing for trees and flowering plants all around the yard -- santol, mango, star apple and nganga (beetlenut). the backyard, aside from being used as a laundry area was a small vegetable garden. at the far end was an outhouse/bathroom with a humongous banga (earthen jar) for water.

never having been allowed to go out without an adult companion, i could not even play in front of the cyclone wires (held by metal pipes for support) that used to be our yard fence. they had their reasons. unknown to them were instances though, when i would slip out and walk in the rain with my umbrella and little basket.

so there i used to be -- at times playing with bessie (our great dane)... chasing the geese and the ducks around the yard... watching the hantiks (large, red ants) who made their homes out of the leaves of the santol and mango trees... but mostly it was just me playing by myself.

when i was about 5 years old, my grandpa made a tree swing just for me. he came home from batangas one day with a thick slab of wood. he bored two holes on two side edges of the slab and tied it to a sturdy branch of the mango tree by an anchor's rope. in no time i was swinging away.

when i am not in my favorite place at the window sill, i would be under the mango tree swinging for hours. often, the hantiks would find their way down the rope and onto my hands or thighs. imagine being bitten by it's mandibles... pulled as i may, it's severed head was always left attached to my skin.

the neighborhood kids often gawked at me sitting on my swing. and since i was not allowed to go out, i invited them in. funny... while they envied me for having a suspended swaying seat under a tree, i envied them for being out there.