We flew higher
into the watercolor blue sky.
You kicked your sneakers off,
and we thought they would poke holes
in the clouds.
The sounds of all the other children
on the playground
wove in beautifully
with your musical laughter
and the steady,
creaking heartbeat of the swing set.
The silver steel chains
felt velvety smooth in my hands.
I held on to them for dear life;
they were my only tether to Earth
this high in the sky.

“Jump!”
you managed to scream at me through your giggles.
Tendrils of fear tugged at my heart.
Why would I let go of my lifeline
and purposefully fling myself into the unknown?
I was about to answer ‘no way’
when I saw you pleading
with your diamond blue eyes
and your big smile
that revealed two missing teeth.
Your courage was infectious.
Despite my trepidation, I nodded,
and in unison,
we dropped the chains.
We were soaring up high with the birds
for what seemed like hours.
I don’t even remember the landing;
I just remember lying right next to you,
cloaked in sunshine,
and happiness.

I haven’t been to the playground in years,
yet I find myself here today.
The chains are crusty, rusty, red.
I begin to fly back and forth,
just the same as when we were kids,
yet something is missing: you.
Jump!
Your voice rings in my ears,
and I realize that when you died,
you never left me at all.
I can see your diamond blue eyes
and big smile with the missing teeth
hidden in the dreary clouds.
Your courage is still infectious.
I jump.