We Aspies like our swings. It's not hard to understand why. The back and forth motion quiets the agitated mind. The energy that might otherwise be released through nervous stimming finds a more rhythmic, orderly outlet. Who wouldn't enjoy a good swing?
I sit on my outdoor rocking glider as I write this. I've had it about a year. It's nice, for the few minutes I spend out here, now and then. It's relaxing, an invitation to step outside and do nothing. Until the mosquito-dodging, and the unending drone of the air conditioners, drives me back indoors.
Yet, my glider swing does lack something compared to the real thing, by which I mean a swing set. I suppose it's been 20-odd years since my last time. I remember how it feels, vaguely. Gripping the metal chains with my hands... Pumping my legs... Gradually propelling myself along an ever-widening arc, and the ground below appearing to rock along with me, up and then down. On and on. All cares fall away. Ah yes... that was the stuff.