Tuesday, October 19, 2010
My cousin has this tire swing. It's a worn-down black rubber tire so thin from years of tugging and hanging onto. Since it's been up for more than ten years, the tree branch that it's tied onto is kinda crooked and bent, hanging over us lifelessly. We used to twist it up till the rope was all bunched up, and then one of us would jump on it while the rope untwisted at what seemed like a hundred miles an hour. My cousin and I were best friends. She used to have this curly hair that was always wild and unkept, and she was always stringbean-thin, yet Coke was her heroine (and still is). But now, we don't even talk.My cousin, to say the least, got caught up with a bad crowd. We don't even say "hi" much when our families get together at Christmas. Mostly, because we're totally different. And now I feel so much younger, even while she's really younger than I am. But she doesn't even know that I miss her, and love her. I don't want to see my cousin hurt herself like this, but I don't know what to do. I can't tell her what I think, because I haven't seen her since spring, and she avoids all eye contact with me. I may say that's fine with me, but here I am, still young and innocent, left behind, rocking back and fourth on that tire swing still.