I'm 32 without a dime to my name
My all-time bestie
My 2am phone call
My mid-morning coffee run partner
We had a fallout and haven't talked in months
I'm not ready to make amends
And neither is she
So I drive to the only place that clears my head
I drive to the park
I get out and hear my black Mary Janes clonk on concrete
My bottom sits on a green bench
It's got holes and the paint is nearly gone
Two girls and a dimple-cheeked boy play together
The girls jump into the spinning apparatus
The boy starts turning it before jumping in
They go flying in circles and topple over giggling
It looks appealing
Then one girl looks at me weird
I stare back thinking about joining them
As I get up I see her cross her arms
Playgrounds are for kids.
Why only for kids?
Because adults are too big.
There's plenty of room for both of us to fit here right?
The girl goes silent for a minute
I reach out a hand
Come on, these things are just as fun for adults as they are for kids.
She hesitates before looking up at me
Then why do adults sit on the benches?
I falter just as she did, then find the words I should have told myself years ago:
Sometimes we're scared to be a kid again, because if we do, we may never want to go back to being an adult.
