Sitting Still
2022. Digital.
We perched on that heavy wooden bench, heavier than the swing set a few yards over. Part of the fun was that the whole structure swung with the swings. We were light enough that mom could carry Liza on her hip while dad took me on his shoulders. We were light enough that the playhouse supported us but not November’s first snow. We watched from the windows as the roof collapsed, slow and almost pretty.
