I.
The porch swing sways in the fall breeze, sunlight casting shadows on its worn, wooden surface. Dust has gathered. Unused, lonely, abandoned, longing for company. Grandma waters the garden, remembering when it was always full, children laughing.
II.
Snow glazes the surface, covering imperfections. Rusted chains squeak in protest as Steven shoves the snow away. Mischievous, looking for trouble. Surface drenched now, he sits, slipping to the ground. Uncaring, laughing loudly. “I want hot chocolate, Mommy.” Running inside, cheshire grin still lingering on his lips.
III.
Summertime. Hot, humid, sweaty. Liz sits down, burning exposed legs. Remembering childhood. Kids piled, a teetering tower of flesh. Laughter rises from her throat. Her brothers’ bloody noses ended the excitement.
IV.
Family in the yard, gathered for the annual BBQ. Kids playing tag. “I’m gonna get you” ringing in the air. Water balloons and bubbles fly through the air, splashing intended targets. Plop! Plop! Children hide in the treehouse. Family picture: a collage of jeans and matching polos. That old porch swing is full once again.
The fall winds force the swing into motion.