A Nobody is Still Somebody

Another dinner with Ice cream for dessert, and once again, mine tasted bitter. I barely ate any from my bowl, not that I had much to begin with. Still, I had to finish it at some point before mom and dad talked about how I waste money. I sat and poked at the melting dessert hoping it would dissolve instantly.

My brother sat across from me with dirt entirely covering his right side and back. His white baseball uniform was a mess, yet our parents didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. I always get a talking to whenever I get mud on my clothes even if its accidental. They had wide grins and bellowing laughs; their eyes doted on him like a newborn. It was like they had found their soulmate. It was weird seeing them like that again after so many disappointed sighs, stern faces, and serious talks about my future.

Mom got up and took the trash from the table to the garbage bins, allowing dad to shower my brother with praise, because he couldn’t get a word out with mom’s unending rambling. Sure, he hit a few good home runs and the winning catch, but he does things like that all the time. Doesn’t that sound like a broken record by now? Aren’t you tired of all this nonsensical yammering about how great you are? I mean, if praise is freely gifted every day, it loses all its meaning. Not to mention, it sure has gotten old having to listen to it. So much so that I tuned out the entire onslaught of idolization.

Dad and my brother got up with their half empty trays and walked over to the trashcan. I followed behind as my stomach eased up from the spiral it was in looking at the ice cream I was trying to waffle down. I stood next to my brother, emptying our trays simultaneously. He didn't even finish his ice cream...

It was still relatively early when we got home. Dad walked with an arm around my brother while Mom hurried to hold the door for them. She smiled at them as they walked past, and her face toned itself when she looked back at me. I walked through the house for a bit, not stopping anywhere in particular, just roaming.

My brother went upstairs to get changed while mom and dad got together to read the novel they had for their book club. I rustled around in the kitchen drawer quietly as to not disturb the parents, finding one of my brother’s old pairs of headphones which now had my name on them. I shuffled through the house to the front door, patting our dog on the head as I scrolled through my favorite song's playlist. The sunset’s vibrant light peered through the warped glass door.

I walked across the street to a thirty-year-old playground, wrought with rust, and abandoned by the curious and playful children of the past. I slid my hand across the metal beams and plastics with a sentimental feeling in my chest. The paint was chipped all over, the slides practically split in two. The wear and tear though not prevalent anymore, still showing in its age.

No one came here anymore. After all, it's been long forgotten by the people, and there were much better options not too far away either. Not a single soul wanted this place as their own. Not a single soul would have this playground be their first choice. Its only purpose is to be there when it's convenient for other people. It stood tall all the while though, waiting for someone to come and use it again like the old days when it still felt all the love from the children who actually wanted to be here.

I sat on the swing, and the gentle breeze of a warm tranquility forced my eyes shut and my lungs empty. The sunlight on my face felt hotter than the air around me. The rest of my body chilled as my head leaned back. I grabbed hold of the metal bars, flinching to the sting of the heat. As I leaned back however, pain shifted from my hands to my heart. My hair weighed my head down, flowing gracefully to the ground and swirling along the mulch.

With the opening of my eyes, shapes of orange and pink fluff bounced around the open velvet sky. My pupils grew larger as half of my vision was blocked by the drooping of my somber eyelids. I sat up with a multitude of hair strands covering my face. The feeling in my heart pounded again. So, I kicked my feet off the ground and let gravity take over the motion of my body. I gazed over my shoulder not wanting to make eye contact with the neighbors next door.

My eyes gleamed with sadness across the twilight, my eyelids closing ever slower. The gray and green flickering's of color were the only desirable features that gave my eyes something to be looked at. They worked diligently to sparkle ever more admits the tantalizing reflection left in a tears wake.

Who was I kidding? Nothing I had or did would ever be enough for anyone. I would never be anyone's first choice either. Maybe that's why I felt so connected to this playground. Beauty that was thrown out by the world can only be adored by another piece of "trash." This thought brightened my heart and lifted my eyes just a little.

The plastic wrapping around my legs, and the sizzling sensation on my hands felt comfortable to me when it would make others leave in disgust. I felt at home here, because the house across the street never felt that way for me.

I slowed down my strides on the swing set and began to touch the metal chain up and down as I reminisced about nothing. I did not think about anything, nor did I understand why this swing was so sentimental to me. I couldn't conjure a thought. Only a feeling. It was a fleeting feeling, but I had managed to convince myself that I was loved by this playground. How deranged I was to think that such a thing could harbor any feelings. But I wanted that. Even if for a moment, I wanted to be someone's, or something's first choice. I wanted to be loved like I was the only girl in the world.

But then, the swing snapped open. I fell straight onto my butt; my hair caught in the metallic hanging of the swing. One of the supports for the swing ripped right through the plastic, leaving the swing broken in half and unfixable. I sunk into myself and wanted to shed tears for my friend that had gotten itself broken. But instead, my tears were salted by the terrible thought that loomed over me: I guess I wasn't the playground’s first choice either.

I stayed in the pit of my own despair until the sun drenched the sky black. I got up, brushed off the mulch on my legs, fixed my hair, stood up straight, and opened my eyes as wide as possible, ready to listen my way through any “conversation” I might have come across. I took a stroll across the street to my house and crept in, heading straight to the stairs so I could shut myself away in my room. That's when I overheard my parents talking.

"I just can't understand why she won't be like him," My mother said. Yeah, probably best if I didn't hear the rest of that conversation. I sulked up the stairs and sprawled out on my bed. It was still early in the night, but I had nothing else to do, so I decided to sleep anyway.

The next day, as I walked through the chilly morning air with our dog pulling the leash ahead, I saw the broken swing dangling, pleading for help. The neighborhood would fix it eventually, but they were notorious for waiting months to correct any major issues, let alone trivial ones such as a broken swing that no one used.

School was starting up again in just under a couple weeks. That swing was my favorite pass time, and with it gone, I had no excuses to leave the house. It would be constant nagging on me and doting on my brother. I just wanted to crawl into the sunset and drift away from this house a star, forever burning the eyes of whoever saw me with brilliant beauty.

But that dream was nothing more than obsolete. The next few days were almost exactly as I imagined. I could tell my parents tried to make me feel at home, but the stark difference between the success of my brother's expert level baseball skills that rivaled any professional, and then me, could be seen by a blind person. The atmosphere was killing me, making me gag at just the thought of being in the same room as my parents or even my brother for that matter.

So every day, I walked the dog countless times just to give my lungs a chance to fully expand. And every day, I walked past the same broken swing that I once cherished. It was nothing more than a reminder of my own worth now.

Six days after the swing broke, I found myself once again escaping the glares of my parents by taking up the leash for my dog. She had gotten skinnier, even though it was only a smidge. As I walked along the sidewalk, a strange clanging sound echoed loudly through the neighborhood. As I walked further from the house and closer to the playground across the street, I noticed a boy there. He was on a stool in the blazing heat hammering away at the rusted rings that held the swing in place.

I stopped right in my tracks and watched as the boy kicked the broken swing away now detached from the overhead bar. He then mounted a brand-new swing onto the bar, adjusting and evaluating it to make sure the height was perfect.

Before I knew it, I watched this boy struggle to get the swing on for nearly ten minutes. Once it was on however, he turned and made eye contact with me. His frustration was swept away by the wide array of his smile. His eyes went from narrow to comedically round within a second, as if seeing me was enough to brighten his day. He looked back to admire his work and then turned again to me and gave me a thumbs up.

The boy grabbed his things and made his way back inside the house next to the playground, smiling all the while. He had no obligation to make such an effort and knew that nobody used the swing...except that...someone did. I did. I used that swing.

No…I was overthinking. Surely he fixed it just because it broke. No other reason than that. If that were true though, then why hadn’t he fixed the rest of the playground?

I couldn't move from my spot as my heart gently whispered the answer to my brain. My eyes decided to give out free tickets to see a water show that evening. I couldn't process what he had done. What he had done for me. This boy noticed me. He chose me.

I wiped away my ever-flowing tears, sniffling in an ugly manner. In the midst of it all though, A smile dashed across my face. I smiled with every ounce of gratitude my face could muster. My eyes closed half way again, but this time it was my cheeks pushing up on the bottoms of my eyelids.

I had been so quiet the past week that I almost forgot how to speak. But in an instinctual surprise, I whispered into the boundless air. The boy had long been inside by that time, so he never heard it. However, in the gleaming violet sky, as my gray and green eyes glistened once more from tears, I spoke my heart out in two simple words.

"Thank you."