As I was driving home, there was a swing on the curb, waiting for me to pick it up. It had been waiting for days for me to pass by and was about to give up hope. But since it knew I needed a swing at my house it persevered and was rewarded for it's patience. I loaded it up in the back of my truck and now it's in my backyard enjoying it's new home.
So, maybe that's not exactly how it happened, but I like my version better than I found an old swing that someone was throwing out and brought it home. Isn't that what writing is about, taking normal every day things and turning them into something unexpected?