A Different Look At That Old Swing

    Jackson swore she could feel the heat physically wrapping around the back of her neck.  The dirt was always packed harder into the cracks on the porch on days like this.  Above her head the tin roof pinged as the heat changed it’s shape; Jackson dragged her bare toe on the ground as the swing retreated and she took a drag off the cigarette that was in her left hand.  At the top of the swing, she exhaled quietly and then gravity moved her forward into the cloud. 

    “It’s so hot even the smoke is too lazy to move,” she thought as the swing began to travel backwards once again, once again her toe dragged along behind it.

This time, when the time wasn’t given away by the sun, were special for Jackson.  She loved to indulge herself in the light that seemed neither morning nor night.  It was that quiet light that seemed to suspend time and release the importance of things.

    Jackson looked over at the empty space beside her.  She always kept to the right side of the swing though there was no one that would join her.  Never had been anyone on this porch helping her keep the rhythm of the swing going; yet, she always had sat as if there someone would walk out into the heat any minute. 

Is that what she wanted?  Her head tilted for a second and her posture stilled, the rocking less evident in her torso now.  Did she want someone to weight down the other side of the swing for her?

    There was no denying that the weight would help even out the awkward gait of the swing, one side struggling to keep up with the faster heavier side.  But, there would be other advantages.  Tossing thoughts out through the thick air knowing they’d be caught had a certain appeal to her.  And Jackson supposed that with someone else tossing ideas back at her, she might not have to come up with new thoughts all on her own.  Plus this time of day was perfect for a deeper voice murmuring next to her.  She was sure she wouldn’t mind the pressure of the heat if it was accompanied by the brush of a voice.   Quiet companionship was what she saved that seat for.

    But quiet solitude fed her every night.  If the seat next to her was filled, she’d never be sure that nothing would intrude on her thought pattern.  Jackson knew that she wouldn’t have to think in English or in complete sentences if no one was there to suddenly ask for a summary of her thoughts.  As it was now, she could let herself get distracted by the smallest things and not worry that she wasn’t giving her undivided attention to someone muttering next to her.   Perhaps it was too hot for conversation; perhaps the brain should be allowed to be lazy on these hot nights when not even smoke wanted to rise. 

    Jackson became aware of a slow moving car passing the porch.  She lifted her hand quietly and nodded to the driver.  She pushed her foot against the floor to give the swing a little speed and height.  Taking another drag, she blew the smoke up towards the rafters over head and took in the rough look of the wood.  She loved looking at wood, the grain in it seemed warm and alive to her.

    It appeared her debate would not be solved tonight.