l to r: Kimberly, me, Nancy, Ann-Marie, Cynthia
Every time I hear the song, "Dream" by Priscilla Ahn, I am reminded of a childhood friend. When I hear the lyrics, "I could fly from the highest swing, played pretend between the trees, fed my house guests bark and leaves, laughed in my pretty bed of green," I am no longer an adult sitting here in my kitchen. I am a freckle faced girl sitting on a swing in my friend's back yard on a warm summer morning. Shaded by large trees, we swing on a big, old swing set, the kind you used to see in school yards. Her mother, red bandana over bobby pinned hair, hollers out of a second story window. Shaking the rug, her mother yells at her not to swing so high. I slow my swing, dragging my feet in the dust. But not my *white-blond* ringlet-haired friend, Ann-Marie. She laughs and laughs and pumps her legs even harder.
