At a playground near my apartment in Boston, my children on side-by-side swings, their mother, my ex-wife, pushing our daughter while our son pumps his legs until he is higher than he intended. He asks for help slowing down, then stopping. I catch his legs and hold him steady. He laughs. Let go, he tells me. Let me go and let me fly.

Read more:
http://www.hippocampusmagazine.com/2012/08/the-writing-life-the-basis-for-everything-else-by-william-henderson/