Friday, June 18, 2010

Oval Park

I step onto the playground. The streetlights are the only thing left to illuminate the glorious Oval Park. My very own ghost town awaits me. The wind alerts the swingsets of my arrival followed by the high pitched sound of rusted metal pacing back and forth.

My walk to my familiar spot underneath the jungle gym is matched with the aroma of mulch and pure summer night air.

We sat underneath the jungle gym right amongst all the mulch we could ever want. The smell of the dirt interwined with the smell that was seaping from the glass blue bowl. There was silence besides the occasional "flick, flick" of a stubborn lighter. The wind would tease us by pretending to be sounds of foreign feet breaking the earth or whispers of an unwelcomed guess. It wasn't the smartest place to get high, but it was brilliant in its own mysitc wonder.

We knew hours previous children had been sitting on the top of this jungle gym kingdom believing they could take flight. No we sat underneath convinced that we too could take flight.

Under the sky the stars blinked curiously at us and God cringed at our stupidity. We stared back. In the sober darkness we soaked in all the little moments that we will remember when we are back at school wishing that we had been left there underneath the dark, summer sky.

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