Again I pushed her high into the summer air, watching the yellow hem of her dress float against the blue sky.

A soft breeze moved through the oaks around the playground, stirring the heavy green leaves over our heads.

“Look how high I can go!” she called to me, her legs kicking straight out toward the clouds.

“You’re swinging higher than the wooden fence,” I told her, catching the seat gently as it came back and sending her up again.

She held on tight to the chains, her green eyes bright and clear as she looked down at the sunny grass.

For thirty-five years I’d adjusted my voice, my posture, and my choices to keep the peace with my mother and my sister.