Moving On

The last time she saw Jacob, he was sitting in the swing by the oak tree in Canton Park. It was the swing that no one ever sat in anymore because it was worn and the chain had been rusted for years.
Had she known that it would be her last time to see her little, brown-eyed boy she would have hugged him so tight and told him how much she loved him. She would have run her fingers through that brown hair and kissed the freckles on his sweet, round cheeks. But, she hadn’t known and so it was a day filled with the ordinary things that a mother says to her little boy when she thinks that she will see him every day.
She relived that day, every day. It was spring. She could hear the mockingbirds and the katydids as they sang their song late that afternoon. She had turned to talk to a mother of a child and when she turned around he was gone. She starting shouting his name, "Jacob!” over and over again; he didn’t answer. They never found him and her life ended. And now she had to figure out a way to move on.

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