Up, down, up, down, up, down, up, down.
I wonder if there’s a possible side to side.
Sitting. Sitting quietly on the swing. Thinking. I like sitting there and doing nothing. Wasting the minutes away – no not wasting. That makes it sound bad. More like spending. Yeah. Spending the minutes away.
Up, down, up, down, up, down, up, down.
White. It’s a memory. You know how those typical memory flashbacks in movies show a white screen? Kind of like that.
Back in grade school. The obnoxious bell rings, and it signals us to go run off to play. Y’know typical kid stuff. My friends and I sprint towards the swings, wood chips flying in the air at our heels.
The middle one. I like that one. It’s my swing, it’s the only one I feel okay on.
“Okay, so we gonna swing. Swing as high as we can. We gotta find a winner. The rest are losers, you don’t wanna be no loser, so swing high. Swing fast! Okay. So I’m gonna count. Count till three. Ya ready? Okay I’m gonna count now. One..two..tree!”
Groans fill the air.
“Okay, okay sorry. No more jokes. Okay, no trees. I’m gonna count now. One..two..three!”
Whoosh!
Up, down, up, down, up, down, up, down.
I close my eyes. People say it makes you swing faster. Yeah, that’s what I want. To swing faster, be the winner. Not the loser. The winner.
“I’m higher!”
“No, I am!”
“Okay, so who’s the winner? Yeah, it’s me? Or is it someone else?”
“It’s me! It’s me!”
“No. It has to be me.”
“Emily. It’s Emily. She swung the highest.”
Groans again.
Oh well.
Up, down, up down, up, down, up, down.
“Okay, we gonna jump now. Jump, yeah? Ready..set..jump!”
Back to the present. White again. Signals the flashback transferring to reality.
I’m back in this unknown place, a thousand miles away from the people I know and love. Yeah, far, far away.
The jump. One thing I always feared back then. I still do now.
What if I break a leg? How does anyone else now imagine that shooting pain? Like ants biting at your skin? I don’t take the jump.
Maybe..I should take it now? Sitting here, all grown up, or so I think. I watch at the boys who pass by, stop, look at me, elbow each other, and walk back, and stand. Stand and watch me smiling. One’s sort of cute. I remember a time when they had cooties, and I had cooties, and we didn’t even glance at each other. Yeah, but now they look at me, and I look at them. And the cooties are gone, replaced by attraction.
I look up. Stars. White ones. Why do people say stars are yellow? They look white to me. Like snow. Not yellow now. Snow. Real snow.
Yeah.
The jump. Back to the jump. Maybe I should take it? Yeah, I’ll take it.
Just jump. C’mon.
Up, down, up, down, up, down, up, down.
JUMP.
No. No, why am I still sitting on the swing?
I’m scared. Much too scared. Still not grown up enough to take the jump from the comfy swing to the ground.
Maybe later. Maybe I’ll take the jump when I’m all grown up. Ready to close my eyes, and take the leap of faith.
Yeah. Then I’ll be like them. Like the ones who took the jump.
Yeah.
But for now?
Up, down, up, down, up, down, up, down.
