Across from the rear courtyard stood an enormous wall, almost the most insurmountable thing in her memory. It blocked every view in that direction, sometimes swallowing up half the sky as well.
Before the wall, a red plank swing hung from that tenacious old tree. Its leather ropes were securely tied, its seat perfectly level. It was rather high, and she struggled a little to climb onto it. Then she looked blankly at the woman, who looked back at her with some distress.
"H-how do I swing?" she asked helplessly, kicking her little legs twice.
"Wiggle your bottom."
She wiggled her bottom, making the woman laugh. "No, no, I said that wrong. You need to use your waist... do you have a little waist?"
"Huh?"
"You need to feel it moving. Then, when it goes forward, you swing forward too, and when it goes backward, you swing backward too... you'll soon get it going that way."
But she spent the whole morning on the swing, working up a sweat, and still only managed the slightest swaying. Yet she neither grew frustrated nor cried. In fact, it was already the happiest morning she had ever spent.
The woman kept teaching her in a soft, gentle voice. She tried hard to learn, terribly worried the woman would dislike her for never getting it, but that never happened. The woman seemed to have an inexhaustible store of patience.
Once the sun had passed noon, they left the swing. The woman took her out through the hall doors, and for the first time she felt anticipation toward the unknown place they were going. They were on the grass beside the pond, where many delicate flowers bloomed. The woman taught her to pick the pretty ones, then arrange them one by one and weave them