Sarah stepped off the porch and let go of the rail. The sidewalk stretched ahead, warm under her sneakers, and no one was holding her hand.
She walked alone. The sun was warm, the street was quiet, and she knew exactly where she was going.
At the crosswalk, a crossing guard tipped her cap and counted down. Sarah marched across, one foot after the other, until she stood on the other side with a grin she couldn't hide.
A shimmer of blue wings caught her eye. A butterfly landed right on her nose, tickling her sneeze away, then fluttered off toward the trees.
She laughed out loud and followed it. The butterfly danced ahead, and suddenly Sarah knew — this was the path to the park.
At the end of the street, the path split. One sign pointed to the lake; the other to the swings. Sarah closed her eyes, remembered the monkey bars, and turned left without asking.
The swings appeared between the oaks. Sarah sat on top of one, legs dangling, and watched the whole park unfold below her.
She pushed off on her own, rising higher, and the wind whooshed past her ears. She did this all by herself.
She swung again and again, eacharc higher than the last. The world below seemed to shrink — the slide, the sandbox, the paths — until everything looked like a map she had drawn herself.
Sarah climbed down and stood at the edge of the park, looking back at the path she had followed. It wasn't so far after all. It was hers.
