What It Looked Like from the Swing …

When I stopped at a prairie inflected rest stop along I-74 and stared at the sky. Haven’t been on a swing in decades, but the playground was quiet , the breeze was gentle, and the sky was blue. It seemed reason enough to pause there, to see if I could recapture the appeal that swings once had, the sense of daring and joy they conveyed.


This entry was published on April 28, 2015 at 4:41 am and is filed under remembering, road trip. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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