An old swing sways in my back yard, hanging from ropes slowly rotting through. As it swings with the wind, I can see all the memories that I have kept deep inside. I can hear my siblings laughing, and screaming as my dad pushes us higher. I remember letting my imagination run wild, yelling out, “We can touch the sky, reach out. Just try!”
At five years old, I figured that childhood would last forever. Countless days were spent on that old swing. Battles were fought against imaginary forces that would one day become real. I close my eyes to find that I am back on the swing watching the clouds travel above the leaves of the aspen trees, which kept me safe so long ago. I feel the contentment of the moment, and I wish I could stay there forever, but when I open my eyes again I’m back in my junior year of high school. At five years old, I figured my childhood would last forever, but now I’m almost 17 and I know that this is not true. All I have left are memories that might someday diminish. I write them down not only to remember, but also to let the world know I have lived, a watermark on a picture far too real.
At five years old, I figured that childhood would last forever. Countless days were spent on that old swing. Battles were fought against imaginary forces that would one day become real. I close my eyes to find that I am back on the swing watching the clouds travel above the leaves of the aspen trees, which kept me safe so long ago. I feel the contentment of the moment, and I wish I could stay there forever, but when I open my eyes again I’m back in my junior year of high school. At five years old, I figured my childhood would last forever, but now I’m almost 17 and I know that this is not true. All I have left are memories that might someday diminish. I write them down not only to remember, but also to let the world know I have lived, a watermark on a picture far too real.
