He launches my swing into the air so I can feel the freedom and the height and the potential

He holds me up, in the air and in his eyes

Delivering as much strength as he can muster

Until I get “too big” for the swingset, and we have to shift indoors

 

He records all those early moments through the camcorder

My first lost tooth, my reluctant broccoli consumption

Countless silly songs and dances

Those images would be gone, but the tapes help me recreate

The freedom and the height and the potential

 

He lets the morning’s silence be just that

Hanging over the gear shift as we drive the dark streets to the airport

He reminds me that he’s holding me up as I board back to New York

To feel the freedom and the height and the potential

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This post is part of the A-Z Challenge. My theme is April Scribble, which includes microfiction, small vignettes, and poetry.

For more alphabetical goodness, click here.