Swings

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The closest I have ever come to flying in my life, is sitting on a swing, as a little kid, and even now, when I get the chance to do it. The rusty chains would creak as I lunged forward, and then backwards, closing my eyes, picturing myself sitting on a cloud, the wind ruffling my short hair, my short legs barely touching the ground. But when time came to get off the swing and step foot on reality again, I always hated the noise the dirt would make under the soles of my shoes. Despised the red pebbles that crawled into my tiny socks. As I walked hand in hand with myself, I stared at the clouds and wondered: “why won't you let me up?”. I returned to wherever I was supposed to be, and my ephemeral moment in heaven was forgotten. But whenever I saw a swing, I would climb on it, forgetting anything else, forgetting all the other games, I had grown wings, nobody could talk to me, for I was above any body else. But most of all, I was free.





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This article has 4 comments. Post your own now!

StarGazer9 said...
Jun. 25, 2013 at 4:27 pm
Don't we all, one time or another, wish to do things we did as children? Great article, keep it up!
 
plushi101 said...
Jul. 2, 2012 at 4:42 pm
Awesome! just the way I feel!
 
mamabowie said...
Jun. 30, 2012 at 10:46 pm
Loved it exactly the way I feel on a swing, and I am 49 !
 
Tía Crab said...
Jun. 30, 2012 at 10:20 am
Really good!  Don't ever lose that sense of wonder.  
 
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