Swinging

Click. The camera shutter of my mind’s eye closes, forever capturing the picture. Warm light pours down from the heavens, casting a golden glow over everything. This picture is forever tattooed in my memory. It begins with a tree.

This tree is a wondrous tree that has guarded the front of my house for as long as I’ve been alive. A swing hangs regally from a stately branch, the breeze gently tickling the rough twine ropes. The sun warms my back, my dark t-shirt absorbing the heat like a sponge. I am a queen, the swing my throne. I gaze with a benevolent eye over the long-grassed meadow that is my kingdom. I swing back my legs and a gentle murmuring of the sweet breeze whispers in my ear. Time to fly, the wind sings to me. I lean back in my throne. I watch the emerald canopy spangled with umber veins with eyes that are my own but then again, eyes that are detached from this mundane world. I blink and the moment passes. I am just another miniscule piece of the universe.

The sun bears down upon the scene. I taste the scent of a promising summer on the air. As I lean back once more, I let go of my throne and fling myself at the sky. I fall back to earth, my attempt to fly thwarted. The grass of my kingdom grazes my feet as I land like a stone. I roll over under that remarkable tree, the sun in my eyes, summer on my heels, and I laugh.