The swing and the sunset

Michael and William: Picked by the Wind

The swing and the sunset  (I cried while writing this ngl)

Hey! I also recommend listening to the video above while reading, It really sets!

Michael drives on the quiet highway, he flicks through the radio as the Sunday afternoon tunes weren't enjoyed. His hand stops at the 103.2, a hand rests on his. Looking up at the passenger's seat, Michael smiles. His father sits beside him. "I like this song," he says.

Michael nods and sits back in his seat to focus on the road. "You were so young," Michael sighs, "And so are you," William smiles. "Don't waste your life kiddo," he pauses. "You'll do great things."

Mike smiles as his father rolls down the window. The music plays softly, the autumn breeze blows lightly against the car. His father's long brown hair drafts in response. The car stops at the growing traffic and Michael closes his eyes.

He opens them again, he looks to see his father smiling at him, as the wind casts his father away. Michael takes another right turn, there was one more place he needed to see.

The lush overgrown grass rests against his ankles, the sky is a faded pink as the sun falls into the ocean that crashes in front of the hill.

In front of him lays a chipped gravestone, faded letters still standing proud, just like his father once had. The single tree that holds a wooden swing too stays proud over the setting horizon.

A dusty memory replays. He as a child sitting on the swing. While his father sits on the ground beside him. He and his father smile out into the ocean, hand in his. The two figures fade into the wind as Michael focuses back into reality once more.

IN LOVING MEMORY,                                                                                                                                                  WILLIAM DAVE AFTON                                                                                                                                                1974-2001

As the sun sets deeper into the horizon, Michael sits at the swing, his father once again by his side, hand in his. A tear rolls down his tanned cheek, the wind whistles again. Michael stands after a few silent moments and leaves for his car.

But behind the gravestone, stands a ghostly figure. His hands, tuck into his jacket pocket and the long brown hair blows in the breeze. William smiles, he watches as Michael drives off into the distance.

A loving father, A missed father. Stands by his side, and no matter how hard the wind tries, the swing and the sunset on the hill will never leave them apart.

Lemme know if you want a part two!