The Ups And Downs of Life And Love

The frozen gate latch to the entrance of the chain link fence was a torturous testament to all that had changed. The icy grip on its internal mechanism was a wry reminder of both a painful past, and the pernicious present that lie ahead.  A final pent-up blast of energy to the lever shattered the frozen crystals into a hundred shards, paling in comparison the thousand pieces of her heart that he left on the floor months before.

The metal barrier separating their past and present now vanquished, there was no going back. Now, only the searing heartache of a defining moment held them back from entering the familiar landscape of their origin story. 

Standing motionless in the gray April morning at the gateway to that bygone time, each wondered who would initiate the first step. And for the kind of eternity mere seconds can represent in situations like this, their statute-like images stood frozen like the ground beneath them until they ironically took that all-in-important first step together.

The groaning crunch of each footfall broke the ethereal silence that the newfallen snow brought. A kind of unspoken purpose that belied the moment accompanied each deliberate stride that drew them closer to the genesis of every memory that had preceded the past 53 years. Until now.

—-----

The trek across the old schoolyard traversed the haunts of the social hierarchy of this small town, USA, K-12 school they attended. It passed the hallowed quad area where the high school kids held court, it crossed the handball and basketball courts where the junior high students auditioned to join the older kids, and it ended at the playground where the elementary school kids frolicked - in good weather - on the seesaw, in the jungle gym, and on the swings. But, in reality, the playground was actually the beginning of a journey like theirs.

Eventually, they arrived at a bench facing the unmistakable figures of their youth. Their frozen breath billowing to nowhere, the gentleman deftly moved his glove-covered hand across the seating area, clearing the powder to the front-row of their memories.

The bitter breeze that passed between them joined their bank stares that pondered the familiar relics before them. Like it was yesterday, the playground equipment of their youth stood century, yet in a kind of suspended animation, courtesy of the late season snowfall. 

After several moments of futility trying to get comfortable on the frigid metal benches, the wind painting their ruddy cheeks a deeper shade of scarlet, their forward gaze became fixed on a seesaw, but not just any seesaw.

By and by, the gentleman, somewhere in his early 60s with graying hair around his temples and weathered crows feet around his eyes, reached into the satchel he set between them. Struggling to reconcile the bitter elements with his thick leather gloves, he eventually found the dexterity to lift the metal latch to produce an envelope, and then the contents within. 

Flailing in the breeze, the handwritten missive commanded his rapt attention. After several wavering moments, he cleared his throat, as small tears began to form in the corners of his reddening eyes. Presently, a soft and barely audible murmur is heard but ceases as quickly as it came on. Defeat in his eyes, he handed the letter to her and looked away in shame, the moment ostensibly too painful.

Her deadened eyes guardedly followed each word of regret that poured from his heart as recalled their love story that began in that very space.

—-----------

Surrounded by an army of suitors that first day of fourth grade, the new boy in school with the lisp and crooked smile dared to brave the irreversible humiliation a playground can bring. With all the false bravado he could muster, the funny kid with the Latin drawl carefully maneuvered his way through the crowd to reach the belle of the ball, that blonde-haired blue-eyed angel wearing her French braids and Bonnie Bell lip smacker lip gloss like a movie star.

At precisely the moment he finally reached the front, the schoolyard goddess inexplicably looked in his direction, and in that instant, he came face to face with the single scariest moment of his young life.  With what seemed like every eye in the school disdainfully trained on him, the moment of truth had come. Through the Sahara desert of all cottonmouth, he asked her if she would like to play on the seesaw with him. And by the time first recess ended that day, the new kid had etched himself into fourth grade legend and lore.

Everyday that year, the playground queen and her jester could be found on the teeter totter discussing all the serious matters of the day, spanning everything from the gross cafeteria fish sticks, to the rumors about whether or not Principal Ferris ever really used his paddle on kids, to the spittle that formed in the corner of Mrs. Draganza’s mouth when she taught, to what was on tap for the coming weekend.  They had truly become BFFs, and yet, the jester’s feelings remained unrequited.  That is until the Welcome Back Dance at the beginning of the sixth grade.

Two years had passed since their muted courtship began through their seesaw sessions, and in that time, the playground beauty had grown more radiant than ever, her admirers still ever present. Contemporaneously, the jester had also grown, but in his case, it meant adding height and features much more prince-like than his earlier countenance. Boys have a way of changing in miraculous ways between elementary and middle school, and true to form, the jester had become a budding prince charming. And the queen had noticed.

Now, a schoolyard has a clear social ladder, and here it meant that the elementary school kids hung around the playground equipment. Ascendancy has its privileges, and that meant middle schoolers rose to the ranks of the jungle gym, which is fitting, given the jumble of emotions and hormones that begin at that age.  Daily during break (no longer “recess” for middle schoolers, you know), the junior high students would hang around - literally and figuratively - the jungle gym and the surrounding benches. Much like their physical presence, the conversations among them had also evolved, and by the beginning of sixth grade, the biggest topic was who was going to the Welcome Back Dance with who. 

For the queen of the quad and her friendly consort, the discourse about the dance was no different, save the utter heresy of either of them revealing their hopes for what that night might mean.  But in the end, it didn’t really matter who was “going” with whom, as Mom and Dad still did the driving, and everyone attended. All that mattered was who they were going to see, and hopefully dance with. 

The Welcome Back Dance was the first one that sixth graders got to attend, so there was a whole other level of excitement, and trembling, for this class. Predictably, the queen made a grand entrance that evening with a red-carpet worthy performance. Unpredictably, at least for her, was the attention that had gathered around her favorite subject. As she made her way across the gym floor, it became clear her BFF had become a BMOC, and the number of young ladies around him confirmed it.

In a queer twist, turnabout became fair play that night as the queen uncharacteristically became the courtier.  She now held the unfamiliar mantle of princess, and it was now she who had butterflies as she asked him to dance. To her relief, the white-hot spotlight of attention had not deterred his interest, and the familiar crooked grin that came her way told the whole story. The two of them hopped, stomped, and shimmied the night away until the kinetic energy in the room raised the temperature to such a state that a breather in the night air was in order.

The cool September night air provided welcome relief from the sweltering temperatures as the two strolled around the campus before ending at the jungle gym. There, they recounted the summer’s events. Their respective families had full agendas the past few months, so the two had not seen one another.  That part of the conversation and talking about the usual mundane topics of irrepressible younger siblings, insufferable parents, and idiotic upcoming homework was easy, but those things did not evoke what burned beneath the surface.

Eventually, the small talk petered into awkward silence, opening the door to express their feelings for one other. But just as the prince summoned the courage to express his feelings for his princess, the piercing sound of the school bell rang, followed by the vice principal’s unmistakably grating voice on the PA demanding all students return to and stay in the gym. With no time to waste, the prince blurted out the question; would the princess go steady with him? The moon blushed at her superior beam, which the prince sealed with a first kiss, and two kids ran, hand in hand, back to where the night had begun.

—----

The woman jumped and the letter fluttered as she heard the same jarring school bell from her memories, followed by an avalanche of jackets and snow boots that entered the playground. The smallest ones veered toward the seesaws, the medium-sized ones to the jungle gym she had just visited in her thought, and finally, in cool fashion, the larger sizes strolled to the quad. Curiously, though, two who wore large jackets and boots walked closer together than the others, and they strolled not to the quad but to the swings, just as the prince and princess had.

Simultaneously, the man blankly took in the schoolyard dynamics unfolding around them.  His sorrowful eyes were initially trained on the seesaw and the line that formed to mount her.  He couldn’t help but notice the first two occupants to ride were a boy and girl who appeared unmatched in their countenance, but equally enjoying the rhythm of the conversation. Not far from there, he also couldn’t help but notice the gangly intentions of the medium sized jackets and boots as they touched, by turns, timidly and tenderly. But it was the pair of large jackets and boots at the swing set, cuddled all by themselves, that triggered his laser focus.

—----

That magical night under the moon and stars so many years before witnessed the start of charming puppy love between the prince and princess that evolved into something so much more over the ensuing years. Stolen moments in the jungle gym throughout junior high had naturally shifted to visits to the swings on date nights during high school.  And just as the focus of their conversations had shifted from cafeteria fish sticks during elementary school, to irrepressible siblings in middle school, the nature of the conversations shared by the prince and princess over their high school years transformed to their thoughts and dreams.  With and without one another.

College had been a recurring topic of conversation during their senior year.  The prince’s family had mapped out a path for him beginning at the community college in the next town over and then state college afterwards  The princess’ family had long before ordained their girl to attend the college where they had met. What hadn’t been reasoned by either the Montagues or the Capulets was if/how to reconcile how love sprung from a seesaw, coaxed by a jungle gym, and polished by a swing set would upset those plans. Assuming they had a say.

One of the final rites of passage for their senior class was Prom Night, which was held on campus. The Prom Committee, which was comprised of Junior Class parent volunteers, was annually tasked with  transforming the campus to an exotic destination, and the destination for the Class of ‘79 was the South Pacific. The prince and princess had been talking about how much fun they were going to have, but unbeknownst to the princesses, it was to be a life-changing experience.

Couples who date as long as the prince and the princess had a whole other level of pressure during the senior year. For couples like them, the discussion invariably includes if/how they move forward as a couple. The prince and princess were like countless others before who wrestled with this. For him, it was to be community college in the next town over before heading to state college up north. For her, the driving influence of her parents had imprinted an unyielding path to college, and yet the prince had recently begun to float a different vision - getting married.  For every reason under the sun, even to them, it didn’t make practical sense, but love generally doesn’t.  And each time he surfaced a life together, the princess grew to love the thought more and more.

The night of the Junior-Senior Prom, his rusted  ‘71 Ford F-150 was not exactly the bedazzled pumpkin carriage that most princesses dream of, but to her it was elegance, personified, because it had transported the two to so many amazing memories.  Donning gaudy beach apparel, the pair, who had earned the senior superlative “Most Likely to Get Married,” produced their faux passports to gain entry to islands. Like so many times before in this same space, they danced the night away. And similar to all those times, they eventually snuck off to the school yard, which now meant the swings.

As they caught their breath, the conversation eventually morphed from island fun to real world realities. Following their typical pattern, the prince pushed his princess until she playfully pleaded to come back to earth, and, per usual, he relented. On this night, though, he conditioned it with a promise that she would have to marry him. She played it off until she no longer felt his gentle hand on her back, or heard his playful voice. And then from behind she saw him amble in front of her before getting down on one knee, a small box perched in his hand, as he looked adoringly at her. And in an instant, the moon blushed, until wept 53 years later.

—----------

Again, as before, the strident siren that was the schoolyard bell brought the man and the woman back to present, and the flood of jackets and boots reversed their field back to the building from which they came. From the seesaws, the jungle gym, and swings they came, and from each direction some jackets and boots walked just a little bit closer together.

When the yard had cleared, and the man and the woman were alone again with their thoughts that spanned over five decades. The crushing poverty and stress of working their way through school to forge their life together. Beginning careers. Raising a family, the planned and unplanned ones that came. Caring for and burying parents. Giving sons and daughters away - and then spoiling grandkids. The legacy of it all now stood in the balance. But was contrition enough?

Presently, the din of pattering feet across the schoolyard grew louder, and before long, the man and woman were face to face with a breathless young girl with a frantic look in her eye.

“Have you seen a pink muffler with purple penguins on it?,” she asked, gasping for air.  But before either of them could respond, she answered her own question. “There it is,” she exclaimed, as she ran to the edge of the playground equipment where the lost scarf lay.

As she retraced her steps in their direction, the girl turned to the man and woman, and, cocking her head ever so slightly, like a confused puppy or kitten, she asked, “Why are you sad?”

Their lost silence turned to stunned silence, neither one ready or able to handle the brutality of her truth. But only as innocence can do, she continued without interruption.

“You know what my friend and I do when we’re sad together? We play on the seesaw, jungle gym, and swings. It’s fun, and it always makes us feel better. You should try it!”

Without waiting for a reply, she ran in the direction of the classrooms, and, again, the man and the woman sat alone in their thoughts, though now they found themselves actually looking at each other for the first time since daring to go back to their shared beginning, as they had long been encouraged to do. But like so many of the key moments in their young lives together, they had arrived at a crossroads, of sorts.

The chilling breeze that had bitterly enveloped them before the children arrived had begun to dissipate, and a single ray of sunlight was desperately trying to negotiate its way through the clouds.  In a moment, the woman slowly stood and started in the direction of the playground equipment. She took two steps before gradually turning and looking back in the direction of the man, her eyes softly summoning him to join before she continued on.

Almost instinctively, as to not assume too much, the man rose and slowly followed her snow prints, and the other pair that now connected the two of them, save for the fact that no children had trod in that area to disturb that patch of new fallen snow.

The penitent heart grieves for what only the forgiving heart can offer. And the forgiving heart can only extend grace in equal measure to the love and faith of a child, exercised through seesawing, jungle gyms, and swings of life.