The park seems to have aged along with us. The carousal paints have faded from vibrant to metal, picnic tables rotted, and the grass field has been reduced to brown slippery muck. The seesaw springs are permanently bent on their sides after harsh years of fat bottoms. The giant slide has shrunk to a less intimidating size. It’s to be expected, but a part of me wishes it would always stay the same. Immortal. 1
The earlier downpour scared away all the invading children leaving the playground perfectly quiet and grey. I take a seat on the old swings letting the rainwater soak through my jeans. I flick droplets off the rusting chains.2
The game we used to play, no, it was more of just the start off to all our games. We’d swing the highest we could go, kicking and pumping the air like mad. When we reached the peak we’d clasp hands and jump. Flying off to our private world. Ever changing. A new adventure every day with you as the hero and I your faithful sidekick. Never to return till mom called us back.3
It’s been over ten years since then. I wonder if we jump will we make it back to that same mystical world. You sit down next to me. As if reading my thoughts “Let’s go back,” you whisper. 4
“Yeah.”5
I kick off hard making little pebbles scatter about like rain. My stomach fills with so many butterflies they seem to carry me away. It’s like a race as we swing and you’re winning. So much has changed. Now I have to try harder than normal just to keep with you. You’re already at the peak.6
“Don’t leave me behind!” I shout. 7
I can’t read the look you’ve given me. Apathy? Anger? Where’s your laughing smile? Has that grown up too? You reach out your hand to me. Even though I’m not ready to jump I grab it tight, close my eyes. And we fly.8
“Please don’t leave without me.”9
Everything goes still. My eyes still shut as I wait for something, anything to happen. For a minute I truly believe I had made it back. But the rusty squeak of the swings mocks me. I’m lying in a bed of wet rocks, my arm extended holding on to nothing. I’m sorry. I guess I’m too old to play with you now.
Author notes
It's partially based on something, mostly based on nothing. The skin and bones of my first story in my collection of short pieces.
Very thoughtful criticism, more focused on the content rather than the grammar.
Comments
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Nicely written! The detail is very good... as well as the theme and plotline.
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