When I was growing up, I remember the idyllic days we spent at the playground, on the swings, the jungle gym, of course, the seesaw.
Looking back on it now, I'm not entirely certain why it was so appealing. You go up, you go down, repeat as necessary.
But
(more) there's something in that moment when you kick off, when your feet leave the ground, when you go soaring up into the sky and you stare up into the heavens, at the piano-shaped clouds zooming nearer to you...
And then you hear the heavy thump as your partner slams into the ground, and you go back down. Right when you thought you could touch the sky, you came falling back down, to repeat the process again and again.
It was my sister's favorite, while I hated it. Guess who ended up sitting there with her.
She's older than me by a few months, but we've always been thick as thieves.
But I never could understand why she let herself be governed by that fulcrum back on the playground, or how that's translated into her life today.
She's moody, difficult to deal with, and unhappy.
But damn if I don't love her anyways. Here's to you, sis.(less)
