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Propelling the swing all the way to the top, feeling the jolt of the chains as they strained to let her stretch even higher, was as free as Thicket had ever been. In a world where her every action had been monitored, she savored the brief moment where she could close her eyes and let it all fade away, letting the feel of the wind and thrill of the drop chase the electric nerves from her veins.

She imagined a reality where she wasn’t dragged down by the weight of other’s expectations. A world where the very idea of someone apologizing to her wasn’t more surreal than a dream.

Where the hope lingering in her blood wasn’t doomed to chill and leave her stranded once again in the dark.

Another memory surfaced. This one didn’t appear to be from her dreams. She swung on this very swing set, laughter resounding across the playground as her father pushed her higher, giving her a great view of her mother preparing a table for a picnic—just as they had always done whenever the weather started to warm.

Something akin to happiness heated her chest. The image was so vibrant it was easy to pretend it was real. Thicket tucked the feeling in close as the swing carried her higher.

The moment, as always, was short lived. A car pulled up to the front of the playground. Thicket’s feet ground to a stop and she practically flung herself from the swing, wishing her mother hadn’t seen her.

But of course she had. While she raced to the car, she couldn’t help but wish time slowed, delaying the inevitable scolding she was sure to receive.

Eighteen year old girls couldn’t play on the swings. They couldn’t daydream about flying to new worlds. They couldn’t pretend. Couldn’t be anything other than what they were. It didn’t matter what surreal, reality bending things had happened early today. That didn’t change. Her mother hadn’t changed.

And it most definitely wouldn’t bring back the blissful days of her childhood when her mother still loved her and her father wasn’t lying buried beneath the cold, desolate earth.

Thicket rounded the car and slid into the passenger seat, heart in her throat.

“It feels like a lifetime since I last picked you up from this park,” her mother said, voice a mere whisper. “Since I watched your father push you so high I feared he would wrap you around the top of the swings.”

Thicket’s head whirled. Her mother never mentioned her father. Not since he died. She had acted like he didn’t exist. She had let him vanish right along with the light, sealing them both away in darkness. Thicket didn’t know how to react to this sudden change.

Her mother shifted gears and straightened onto the road. The steady sounds of the drive filled the space between them. The hum of the engine. The click of the turn signal. The faint grind of tires against pavement.

“I get off at eight,” Thicket said as they neared the last few turns until Mr. Dunkum’s Yogurt Shack.

Her mother didn’t respond.

Silence slithered into Thicket’s mind, giving life to anxious thoughts that tumbled into her bloodstream. Her mother pulled up before the yogurt shack. The glow of the neon sign flooded the car, casting them in shadows of pink and yellow. Thicket unbuckled her seatbelt, the sound grating against the hollow silence. She was prepared to go to work still feeling the buzz of unease but before her fingers could grab the handle, the blink of the hazard lights filled the space.

Click, click. Click, click. Click, click.

“Thicket.”

Her entire body stilled at the timidness in her mother’s tone. Swallowing, she turned to face her. Her mother’s eyes were trained on something beyond the windshield. Thicket had the feeling she wasn’t seeing the various parked cars or shops, but something far, far away.

“I know I haven’t been the most supportive. I haven’t been supportive at all,” she corrected with a dry, humorous laugh. “After your father died I… I learned that this small town doesn’t forget easily. After you… had your episode, I didn’t want you to have to go the rest of your life being labeled as the crazy girl. So I pushed for you to be normal. To go to therapy. To get a job. To put an end to the dreams I knew visited you every night. I had only your best intentions in mind, but the way I went about protecting you only hurt you in the end. I can see that now.”

Despite her better judgement, despite the way her mind screamed at her not to give into the false hope, Thicket’s eyes started to water.

“I want us to start over. I don’t know if it is too late or selfish of me to ask, but…”

This was everything Thicket had ever wanted to hear. She had always thought that it didn’t matter if the entire world turned against her. If only she had one person there to stand by her, to accept her… She knew she would be alright. And here her mother was, wanting to be that person?

It didn’t feel real.

For once, this life felt like the dream.

“Can you ever forgive me?” her mother asked, voice thick with the threat of tears.

Just like that, years of isolation and resentment melted away. Thicket nodded and launched herself into her mother’s awaiting arms. She smelled like bananas and cinnamon from the muffins she had baked earlier that morning. Thicket wished she had taken her mother up on her offer to eat one earlier, wanting to taste the love she now knew her mother had poured into them.

“Yes,” she whispered through the thick tears lining her throat. “I can forgive you.”

She felt the press of her mother’s head slump against her back, felt warm drops pool against her shirt, soaking it. But Thicket didn’t care.

It was a while until they pulled away, wiping at their eyes, years of damage and unhealed wounds finally stitching themselves together.