SQN - Sine Qua Non - Issue Two - Journal - Page 107
Rowen Holder
the pendulum stops
The hard rope fibers dig into the palms of my soft 7-year-old hands. The teal, circular seat
beneath me clings to my jean shorts like glue, sticking from the morning dew droplets.
I am in flight.
A pendulum of motion.
Whooshhh.
My toes reach out for the tree that forever will be just out of reach of my short legs. My hair
flows in the opposite direction, catching the wind.
Whooshhh.
It’s funny—the swift motion of the rope swing never scares me, but I always hesitate before
bringing my feet firmly into the tall grass.
The thought of my sudden deceleration is scary—scarier than the prospect of spending the
rest of my life high above the ground.
———
I sit up in bed and my head slams into a hard surface.
The white textured ceiling of my grandparents’ “Mountain House”—located right off the
Appalachian Trail in Adams County Pennsylvania—greets the top of my blond skull with a
rough kiss.
Barely awake, I look over the edge of the top bunk and glance at my sister’s bed that lies to
the left of my tall perch. Rhys is curled beneath the covers of her sheets, and her pale face has
the mask of sleep.
After I wiggle out from under the red comforter, I carefully tuck the covers back in place,
saving myself another trek up the wobbly ladder of the bunk bed.
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