Old Slides And Swings

Here comes a fall again. I thought maybe today could be different, just once it wouldn't come. I leap in fear as somebody carrying a stuffed toy passes me from behind, but he's the only one nearby. At least I'm alone for this one.

Here's a place I remember well: younger times, before the falls began, the skipped classes, the yelling parents, the doctors' questions. The carefree days of a child's world. My playground, hidden off to the side of the school and away from the view of the streetwalkers. As this fall builds that old spot is where I find myself, tears forming and feet shaking. Still no one else around, only internal shame to accompany and deflect.

Here's a tall slide I scraped my knee on once. Still have the scar. One time a real doughboy slid down after me too soon and landed right on my back. Another time Sandy Carlson kissed me at the bottom, I thought it was super gross at the time. She moved away to Ottawa in Grade Four and I never saw her again. If only I'd had an option to bank that moment away. I could use that kiss right now.

Here's a set of swings now changed, reminding me of age. Too old to fit on these carefree flyers, too young to yet be called a man. I bat at the chains with my fingers, finding faint childish delight which slows my descent. Once my hands start shaking I'll stop. They've built a garden here now in the exact spot I used to land from the launch of a high swing. Somebody pushed me from the back once as I jumped, so I landed on my head. I chased that jerkwad around good until the teacher broke us up. We swore we'd settle the score after school. Simple schoolyard justice I long for you.

Here now it's too late. The fall hits hard and I'm buried in the sand, a mess of dirt and directionless emotion. Heartbeats speed up like we all did running out here for recess, and they slow like we did dragging ourselves inside when the bell rang. Now the bell rings in my mind and I only want the days of the past: free me from my recurring terror.