George looked at the old swing set and remembered the joy it brought to his three daughters so long ago. The slide that had once thrilled them all was bent and beaten down from years of weather-related abuse. The leather, that served as seats and saw heights unknown, barely clung to the chains that supported it. He hardly recognized the once brightly-colored poles that secured the swing set to the ground because they were now faded and riddled with rusty holes. He marveled at how such a contraption could conjure so many fond memories.
“It’s time to go, dad,” said one of his daughters, who placed a hand on the back of his chair.
“Just a moment longer,” George said.
“Okay, dad. Just a moment longer.”
George gazed one last time at the swing set. Laughter from his little girls echoed through time and was almost deafening. It brought a smile to his face. He looked down at this trembling hands that rested in his lap and recalled the day when they were used to construct such a wonderful memory-maker.
And then he wept.
“For some, life lasts a short while . . . but the memories it holds last forever.” -- Laura Swenson
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