The swings always creak when I sit on them. It’s dark and the drizzle is moving in to ensure that everybody who’d even considered coming out to the park on this dreary day is staying home instead. That suits me though, as it means there won’t be screaming kids around, trying to use the slide by running up it, or trying to make their friends sick on the roundabout.
It used to be that you could relax here, throw yourself into the abandon of childhood but now? As an adult? You are supposed to stay away from these places. It isn’t for you. It’s not your place.
So, I come here when nobody else will. When winter creeps in, the cold and the dark make this place mine again. Makes it my place of solitude.
So, I sit. I let the rain envelop me, feel the cold metal of the swing’s chain against the rough skin of my palms and I get to think. About everything. About all the doors I could have gone through and the ones I chose instead. Here on my swing set, I can choose different doors in my mind and see how they’d have played out. Like if I’d said yes to Captain Samuels instead of walking away.
How different things might have been…
The Idiot in Tin Foil