The Swing

May 28, 2010
The wind blows through my hair and up against my cheek. Emotions ripping through my face like a wildfire burning a forest. My feet felling as if they were a hundred pounds stomp across the driveway towards the car. Abruptly I shift my body so that I am facing the house. I remember just a month ago I was sitting on Aunt Pats lap with the swing rocking back and forth against the whistling wind.


Now the swing sat empty with just the wind whistling against the wood. I longed to sit on the swing once again just wanting to bring those memories back to life.


So I did. I approached the swing like I would have approached an angry bear. Moving slowly not wanting to disturb it. I reach the swing and greet it like an old friend sitting down and start humming the tunes we used to sing all the afternoon. The sound wasn’t the same and neither was the memory slowly fading out of my grasp.


Was it better to keep the memory or just let it go taking all the pain with it?


I push the swing harder, higher as I hum with tears rolling down my eyes. Sadness takes charge of me, old memories flood in.


“I guess this is it” I say as I said goodbye to the swing and my friend for the last time.





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