The park next to my apartment complex is always deserted. I've been coming home for lunches and sitting in a swing, remembering what it was like to move freely. You know what I mean. To kick your legs and slip through the air, your stomach dropping but loving it because you know you will catch up with it again. Controlled recklessness. Calculated risk.
There's something to it. Certainty. It tastes like cupcake icing instead of I-bit-my-tongue. I can get high off the feeling. A long swing in the middle of the day is like a hot bath with wine and chocolate is like my hookup with Anthony last week and not worrying if he'll come back around even if I hope he does.
At the highest point in the swing's climb, I can touch the clouds with my toes. My age falls off behind me. I'm back at the park with my mom, walking around in the fog of my imagination. That's the best--when what's real slides right onto the plane of what you wish to the point you can't tell it apart or maybe you just don't need to.
I make my wishes by kicking the clouds just like I count my blessings on stars. One eye closed, one eye open, the world is the wind on my shoulders.
Maybe I'm in love. Maybe it's Anthony. One night of no commitment and I'm committed. Ha! Could be, but I don't think that's it. I think maybe I'm loving myself right now. When I'm at the park, sometimes I hug my knees in the kiddie fort and close my eyes. It's good to feel small without feeling afraid. So I hold myself together hard and let the tears fall if they need to. This lunch at the park thing--it's a release.
A friend told me I'm metamorphosing. I've been in a cocoon. It's just about time to come out. Swinging at the park? That's letting more than age fall off. She says she sees the chains fading. She sees the fear fading. And it won't be tomorrow or the next day, but healing is happening. "You are finding your way back to an innocence," she says. "Your inner child is guiding you."
However you frame it, it's truth. I feel led. I am listening to myself. I am changing. It is beautiful.
I hope you liked this installment of Dani's fictional story. Images via pixabay.com