This post is completely fiction. It was written in response to The Red Dress Club’s prompt to write a 26 sentence piece where each sentence starts with the next letter in the alphabet. I have done my best to write something that follows that rule AND has some sort of meaning. Please be kind.
Around the bend and over a small hill there was a run-down park. Because this park didn’t have the “new” plastic “toys”, it was rarely frequented by the neighborhood kids anymore.
Cautiously, I approached the ancient swing set. Dangling from the rusted chains were old, rubber swings. Even though they were worn from countless years of weathering, I decided to give one a try.
Fingering the chains delicately to see if the rust would escape and find a new home on my hands, I gently lowered myself onto the swing. Giving myself a push with my feet, I let go. Hampered by the weight of being an adult, I didn’t immediately soar as I did as a child. I remembered for a second what it was like to swing so high that I would come off the swing at the height of my flight.
Just as I was about to jump from my swing like I did as a smaller version of myself, i realized I was being watched.
Keeping my nerves to myself, I slowed down my swingfest. Leveling my eyes with the horizon, I kept the figure in my peripheral view. My hands started sweating. No longer alone, I was embarrassed by my uninhibited display.
Only after I had distanced myself from the swing set did I start to calm down. Positioning myself near the picnic area, I tried to act interested in a placard near the picnic structure. Quickly but quietly, I inched my way toward the back of the structure to escape the line of sight of the Park Intruder.
Reluctantly I admitted to myself that I was the one who would not stay.
Sighing heavily, I started toward the gate.
Touching it, I realized I would never be back. Unfazed, I continued through the gate and back up the hill. Vacantly I walked through that familiar neighborhood–completely unseeing of the changes that had taken place in the past many years.
We had run through this neighborhood all those years ago with such innocent excitement. Xanthic-tinted dust had rolled around our feet as we raced to the park.
Yesterdays were in the past; however, and I had to accept that.