A Mother’s Promise

A swing, in the far distance, blew back and fourth; the leaves rustled and I could taste the metallic breeze as I walked. My eyes closed and I allowed thoughts to swallow me. I didn’t care about the path of my feet or the objects in my way; I was the wind.

I became the free floating air blowing through my air and caressing my skin. Articles of clothing tried to follow me, but nothing truly could. I was wherever I wished to be, doing as I pleased.

No one could tell me I was wrong, or that I wasn’t perfect. Words were carried with me, not through me. Deafening silence surrounded my ear drums and forced everything else away. I was the wind and the wind was me.

I knew that someone was talking to me, but I could not transfer the words into my brain; I didn’t want to. I’d always wanted to fly and I finally was! I went high up into the sky and touched the clouds with the brilliance of a plane.

I kept going.

Higher, higher still.

Then I stopped. Something forced me back down and into my body where I was “supposed” to be. Why can’t they just let me fly? Why can’t I dance with the wind and play with the clouds? What’s wrong with holding onto the last second of joy before someone shoves you back to the ground? Is that a crime?

When my eyes opened I was on the swing, moving back and fourth; like the wind on a happy day. That’s when I could finally hear everything around me; the swing slowly went lower, until my feet hit the Earth.

“What’s wrong, darling?” My mother questioned, concern fluttering through her voice.

“Why can’t I fly?” A high pitch rose from the back of my throat and carried to the listeners’ ears.

Surprise transferred onto her face.

“Well, maybe you’ll get to fly someday; some beautiful day when an angel swoops down and carries you to heaven.” She whispered, thoughtful.

“You promise? “ The hope in my voice relished with excitement.

“Yes. Yes I do.”