Twin Flame | Romance
We Met As Kids On A Playground
The love story I tell myself
Before my childhood got complicated, my mom and I would go to a park every Saturday. She sat on a bench, reading for an hour or two while I entertained myself one way or another. Usually, I played on my own most of the time. Sometimes, though, I made a friend for a day.
One particular Saturday, we went to a smaller park away from our usual haunts. “There’s hardly anything here to play on!” I protested, a seven-year-old menace to my mother’s nerves. The “park,” if one could call it that, held a small swingset of two swings, a rusting metal slide, and a towering rocket sculpture disguised as a jungle gym treehouse. I grimaced, the midday sun all but bleaching the color out of the yellow paint coating everything but the slide. It looked gross and sad.
“Either play here or no park for the day.” The decree had been set. I’d had my heart set on some playground time, so there was nothing for it.
For the first while, I sat lazily swinging by myself. It was frightfully boring, but swings had that weightless allure urging kids worldwide to push a little higher at each apex. The thrilling flutter in my chest as I inched further off the ground redeemed the pathetic park. At least until my mother shouted at me to quit…
