Photo 18 of 365
I remember going with my brothers to play in the neighborhood park for hours at time. The ice cream truck would always be there when we got there, playing the ice cream truck theme song. You know the one… they all play that same song. It just makes kids mouths water and they start running. My brothers and I would hit the swings first. There was one particular set of swings that didn’t have the plastic seats and rarely had any kids using them. I guess the other kids preferred the plastic ones. Our favorite swings were the ones made with one slab of wood as the seat which connected to two thick chain links and would squeak when you began to swing. I am not sure; maybe it was their rustic quality that drew us to them but they would always leave our butts and hands sore for hours. And the funny thing is, as much as our little hands would hurt, we wouldn’t dare get off and lose our turn on the swing to another kid. Well, in my case it was always to my brother. Once I swung too high for too long, I got queasy and my stomach forced me to find other park amusements like to see-saw and the monkey bars. It didn’t take long but that’s how I always lost my swing. Those were the days.
So when I walked across the street behind my apartment, adjacent from the park, the bright colors of the playground caught my eye and brought back memories of my childhood. Even though there wasn’t an ice cream truck or a single child in sight, due to the 39 degree weather; I imagined myself and my brothers playing on the monkey bars, swinging on the swings and sliding down the slide at the park enjoying being a kid again.
Here’s to being a kid again! Unfortunately, this park didn’t have swings.