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
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.