Let Go Ava
Contributor
Written by
Cyndi Briggs
June 2010
Contributor
Written by
Cyndi Briggs
June 2010
This is a post from my blog, The Sophia Project: “Let go, Ava,” the man says. He stands just off the sidewalk in a tee-shirt and jeans, directing his comment to his five-year old daughter who hangs, suspended by long spindly arms to metal trapeze on the playground. She is nearing panic mode. Her long dark hair escapes her ponytail and sticks to the sweat trickling down her forehead. Her yellow tee-shirt rides up her tiny belly, and she kicks her snow white Keds wildly, looking for solid ground. “Ava, just let go,” the father says again. Her feet are only about a foot off the ground but she can’t see that. All she knows is her arms are growing tired and she can’t hang on much longer. I’m passing by the playground on my way from the farmer’s market to the car, my bag heavy with fresh eggs, onions, lettuce, and buffalo bones for my dog. I look at Ava and I look at her father as his words bounce around in my head. Let go. I flash back to my own childhood, years spent sitting quietly in church, my heart full of shame for the sin of not wanting to be there. The resentment I felt toward myself for not being the girly-girl I thought my grandmother wanted. The anger I felt when my high school guidance counselor told me I didn’t have what it took to go to my then-first choice college. Let go. I remember my college boyfriend, my first great love, who died on me two months before graduation, and his successor years later who didn’t love me enough to marry me. To the friends who don’t keep in touch in spite of promises, and the frustration of living for four years in a town so very wrong for me. Let go. What a relief it would be to stop thrashing my feet. To let go of the unsteady bar I cling to. To fall silently through the air to the earth, finally touching down on solid ground. I imagine sinking into that soft sand, letting it cradle me and comfort me. I look again at Ava, struggling frantically to hold on, her grip slipping and her self-control giving over to gravity and I whisper, “Let go, Ava. Just… let… go.”

Let's be friends

The Women Behind She Writes

519 articles
12 articles

Featured Members (7)

123 articles
392 articles
54 articles
60 articles

Featured Groups (7)

Trending Articles

Comments
No comments yet