Jack

       Until I was four years old I lived with my mother and my grandparents in a little yellow house on a shady, quiet  city street.  It had a big front porch and a grassy lawn.  A large white swing was under a shade tree.
      Jack and I spent many happy hours sitting in that swing.  He was my best friend and constant companion.  We were so little we had to climb into the swing.  Our feet didn't come close to touching the ground but between the two of us we could move it and swing a little.
      We spent time relaxing in the shade and playing little kid games.  We made piles of sweet smelling newly mowed grass and jumped in them.  We stomped in mud puddles on rainy days.  We spent summer evenings catching lightening bugs and putting them in old mason jars with holes punched in the lids.  Jack was there at every family event.  He would stand silently watching.
     When I was four we moved into a big house in the country.  I never saw Jack again.  I moved, I grew up and like all invisible friends Jack couldn't come with me.