Highlight from Tuesday: Spending two hours of our break between classes at the public park.

We sat on a dry patch of green grass, in the wan afternoon sunshine, discussing witticisms and woes, primarily academic-related, because, let’s face it, our life has been consumed by nothing but university courses for the last three-and-a-half years. Somayya pointed out a frail tree that looked “like a whisper,” and I shivered within my thick winter coat and kept turning my head so that I was directly facing the sun.

The sun kept moving, and we got tired of moving, and finally I started looking over at the childrens’ swings. Somayya noticed the glances and offered, “Want me to push you?” Kicking off my shoes, I snickered at the multiple holes in both my socks, then settled on a tire swing. I screamed with laughter as Somayya shoved my shoulders, all the while singing Matchbox Twenty’s song, “Push,” in her imitation of Rob Thomas’ raspy, angry voice: I wanna push you around/Well, I will/Well, I will/I wanna push you down/Well, I will/Well, I will.

I giggled helplessly, clinging to the chains with both hands as the tire swing and I both spun around-around-around and the world twirled in a swift whirl of green-blue-browns. It nearly made me breathless, the combination of endless laughter and the cold, crisp wind and the stark, simple beauty of a not-quite-yet-spring day.

Later, L joined us as well, and we all sat on the steps leading up to the jungle gym, and still later we moved over to the concrete park bench, discussing yet more witticisms and woes, this time not academic-related at all.

But in between there was the tire swing.