I had no idea they were even tearing it down. I don’t get to the side of town where my old elementary school is much. They probably talked about it at a town meeting but I never go to those or pay attention to the local news.

I sit there in my car for a while and stare at the empty patch of dirt. They even took away the woodchips. It’s hard for my mind to process, a landmark that’s always been there suddenly gone. A familiar place now unfamiliar.

It’s weird how much I care about something that hasn’t been a part of my life in forever. The gulf of time between when I used to play on that playground and today has become disturbingly wide. But, when I close my eyes now, I can still see it right there where it should be. I can feel what it felt like to play on it, what it felt like to be a kid.

Driving away, it almost feels like a death has occurred.

…

The sense of quasi-mourning follows me all the way to work. If only I hadn’t gone out of my way to get one of those bagels at that place across town that Drew’s always going on about. Drew’s always going on about something.

He’s already at his desk when I get to the cube we share. When I approach he spins around in his chair and points a finger at me.

“Bagel?” He asks.

I nod, “Very good.”

“Alright!”

It was good enough, I guess. I honestly didn’t pay that much attention.

Clock in, clock out. I get through the day like always.

…

Back home to my little apartment, just a few blocks from the house that I grew up in. I never moved across the country like I said I would when I was a kid, or to the city like I settled on when I got older. But, there’s worse places to end up then my hometown. I know it, it’s comfortable.

I microwave dinner and watch TV. 

TV isn’t that great anymore, that’s what they say. I believe it but I also still watch it. Tonight, I fall asleep in my chair, something that’s not uncommon. I wake up a little after two in the morning.  It’s bright in my living room, brighter than the flashing lights from the TV.

I pull myself up and go over to the window. Outside, glowing dazzlingly luminescent, is my old playground. There’s the three-story jungle gym, the monkey bars, the red slide, the swings. Everything as I remember it, right down to the woodchips beneath it all. It’s just sitting there, in the front yard of a house across the street from my building.

I can feel it calling to me, pulling me towards it. I don’t resist because I also feel how I used to feel when I’d run to the playground at the start of recess. It’s like no time has passed at all.

I don’t even put on shoes.

…

Clock in, clock out. Clock in, clock out. Clock in, clock out.

For work. For everything.

I wait for the days to end and the early nights to pass. I live for that magical hour when the playground returns. My two to three AM recess.

Drew asks me if I’m okay until even he finally stops. I’m put on a performance improvement plan by my manager. I forget to pay my rent.

Who cares about any of that? The playground, it does something to me. When I’m on the playground I have no responsibilities, fears or regret. It’s a lightness, the ease of childhood. That mixed with a sense of euphoria, the feeling I used to get during the last few days of school every June. For that hour everything is alright.

…

There’s a full moon tonight. I’m on a swing, imagining that I’m launching up towards it. I shriek with joy but no lights go on in my building in front of me. No lights ever go on in the house behind me either. I wonder if I become a ghost while I’m here or if the playground shields me from view.

…

One night, as I’m going down the slide head first, I feel a sense of dread at the prospect of being fired. This is a first, I’ve never felt anything but joy and ease while on the playground. The feeling passes as suddenly as it came on.

A few nights later, while I’m on a swing, I worry that my life is passing me by. 

A few more nights later, on the monkey bars, I’m overwhelmed with a feeling of sadness that takes more than a few moments to pass.

Anxiety. Shame. Regret. Anger. Depression. Before long, these feelings that have weighed me down for most of my life are with me on the playground too. The feelings of joy and ease are fleeting, even there. Whatever power the playground has seems to be waning. 

I stop going to the playground.

…

Terrible things happened to me after elementary school. If I’m finally being honest with myself, terrible things happened to me even before and during elementary school. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and there’s just so much I’d forgotten from that time. I guess, maybe, that’s common.

Long before the playground appeared, I’d been mostly ignoring it all. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t affecting me. I don’t think the playground’s power failed, it’s just that things that are buried eventually come to the surface. Even the playground couldn’t hold all that back forever.

I realize now that I have a choice to make.

…

“Hey Drew,” I say one day, “Are you still doing bar trivia?”

“Oh.” Drew looks startled before his face relaxes into a smile. “Heck yeah I am! My team’s still looking for another member!”

…

I’m seeing a therapist now. It’s not like on TV where the therapist always knows exactly what to do and say and you have all these great breakthroughs every session, but it does help. 

I get a cat, start hiking, join a book club. I speak up more at work, wave to my neighbors, go to town meetings. I try to appreciate the little things.

Childhood isn’t magical. It’s not carefree. I remember that now, I remember how good it could it feel but also how scary. You’re much more helpless when you’re a child, your life is mostly made for you. I’m trying to make my own life now, as much as I’m able.

I don’t want to go back to childhood, I want to move forward. Still, that doesn’t mean I can’t look back every now and then. I should remember the good times, and there were plenty of those. I’m very lucky because I can more or less return to them.

My old friend is there for me when I need a little break. A recess.