Andromeda

Andromeda loved the way her heart fluttered when she soared high in her swing. On that particular September evening, the early autumn coolness rushed across her dimpled cheeks and through her fine brown hair. Leaning back, she kicked her legs and flew even higher. The metal chains chirped cheerful music to accompany her flight, while the sleepy sun painted the cotton clouds pink and orange before it pulled the horizon-blanket over its face for a night of serene sleep.

The child leaned her head all the way back and watched the upside-down world of trees, houses and waking streetlights tilt and sway with her. Somewhere in the neighborhood, a dog eagerly greeted the night's arrival and broke the silence of dusk that had, until recently, been filled with the warm summer-songs of crickets and cicadas.

Andromeda breathed in cool air and the fragrance of autumn leaves and clover. Stars winked at her from behind the clouds as she was embraced by the soft arms of childhood contentment. Her blue eyes reflected the streetlights and stars, and the first appearance of the smiling moon. The whole sparkling and gentle world seemed made for her alone, and she was happy.

The backdoor opened and spilled a golden path across the lawn. Her mommy called out her name and Andromeda, her head still spinning from flight, hurried inside to supper.