I ventured out to the backyard of my friend’s house as the smoke of a nearby bonfire drifted sluggishly through the neighborhood. It coated the air with its substance and sifted the early evening sunlight like gossamer.
The girl emerged silently from the house and moved to the swing hanging from the aged tree, the branch upon which it hung sagging ever-so-slightly beneath her weight. As she leaned back, her hair tumbled about her shoulders - the light glinted off its surface like the sheen of an angel. She swayed silently back and forth, legs pumping in the same rhythm she’d learned when she was little.
And, for a just moment, she was once-again.