Swing

I sit on the swing that my father made for me, when I was a tot. I was always a bit nervous the sad branch that held me would snap. But I just swung. I tipped my head back closed my eyes and swung. It felt so light almost hollow. I was no longer afraid of the sad little branch giving up on me. I was on a raft floating in the middle of the ocean and I wasn’t worried. I opened my eyes, I was in my yard on an old swing, and I got off because I was afraid the branch would break.

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