Svetlana
A friend of a friend said something that my friend passed on to me. About loves passing each other before they meet each other. I raised an eyebrow and brushed it off.
Till I fell in love. With a girl that I lost as a friend in 2nd grade for being… well, a girl. The cooties sort of thing. Before that we played the aimless games of childhood, clambering onto the sturdy swings of Brooklyn’s playgrounds. Svetlana and I swung slowly on those swings a week ago, marveling at the familarity of them. I remembered then how we had pushed each other, even after I’d learned to swing myself. She learned later, but I never dared to swing as high as she did. Caught in the nostalgia I slid off my swing and began to push her, though as a child I never savored the feel of my fingers pressing into her warm back as I did now.
