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I trudge through the overgrown grass toward my safe place in this city.
The many lights that once bathed this spot in warm light at night have mostly been broken or burnt out.
The light posts themselves are covered with rust.
I’ve slowly watched every aspect of this playground fall apart, but at its heart, it’s still the oasis it was when I was a child.
I’d run here after dinner with my dad and jump on a swing. I’d kick my legs as hard as I could until I had enough momentum that I was flying in the sky.
My hands clung to the metal chains holding the plastic swing in place as my dad pushed me higher and higher.
Years after moving away from this neighborhood, I came back to find the metal chains covered by plastic tubing. That has been the only upgrade made to this special spot.
As I near the trio of swings hanging from a heavy A-frame crafted of metal and anchored in a pit of sand, my crying stops.
Tears have been streaming down my cheeks for hours.
I turned off my phone and rode the subway for what felt like forever before I switched to the train that brought me here.
I have no idea of the time or who may or may not be trying to reach me, but I need to sit here for a while to calm my heart and rethink my life plan.
As soon as I’m near the swings, I kick off my shoes and let my bare toes sink into the sand. My mom always scolded me for that when I was a kid. She’d tell me that I had no idea about the danger that might be in the sand.
I didn’t care.
I only cared about getting on a swing and flying high in the sky. It was there that all the pain I ever felt disappeared into the clouds.
I may have believed that when I was a kid, and even when I sought out this place when I was eighteen on one of the worst nights of my life, but I’m almost thirty now, so I know that the clouds can’t capture my sorrows.
I have to feel the pain, let it settle within me, and find a way to move past it.
Adjusting the strap of my bag across my chest, I tuck the skirt of my dress under my ass and take a seat in the middle swing. It was always my favorite. That hasn’t changed.
I push myself with a foot in the sand, and then my legs bend to gain the momentum I need to leave my pain on the ground until my feet touch it again.
I lean back, closing my eyes as I drift higher and higher.
“Gilbert?”
That voice. The sheer depth of it hits me with a force so strong that I almost let go of the plastic tubing keeping me on the swing.
It can’t be who it sounds like, so I keep my eyes closed and bend my knees again, straining for more height.
“Don’t ignore me, Gilbert.” He laughs this time, and it’s like a warm wave rolling over me.
My eyes open to find him standing a few feet away from me, just off to the side. His hands are in the front pockets of his jeans. He’s wearing a dark sweater with a collar that is slightly askew. The right side is in place. The left side is darting up.
When he steps closer, his face comes into view. It’s the same as the last time I saw it in person years ago, but it’s also very different.
He’s matured. His jawline is more defined, and his dark brown hair is slightly longer than I remember.
“It’s me,” he says, tapping a hand to his chest.
“Al,” I say his name quietly.
“Yeah.” He steps closer and smiles. “You’re here.”
Without the necessary effort from me, the swing slows. “I still come here sometimes.”
