Her mind sought a memory that had stirred
earlier in the morning. A man had once visited her parents. A man who had
pushed her swing high into the air, she remembered. She now tried to visualize
him. Had she been only three of four years old?
“Higher!” Her young voice crowed.
From
behind, strong hands pushed against the wooden seat. She gripped the ropes
tightly, and the swing sailed above her mother’s rose garden.
“Again!”
She demanded as it returned.
The
man caught the swing in his hands, and pulled her backwards, higher and higher,
way above his head. Then he shoved, and as the swing gained momentum, he ran
beneath it.
“Whee!” She sang out as the swing rose in a parallel
line to the ground.
She
caught a look of delight on the man’s face as the swing descended again.
He stood to the side and let it
die.
“I’ve
got to go now,” he said softly.
“No,
I want more. Mama, don’t let him go!” she demanded of the woman standing by the
man’s side.
He
stooped down and kissed her cheek.
“I
can’t stay. I love you, Alice,” he whispered. “Don’t ever forget it.”
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