Days Gone Bye

I am not famous, I have done nothing remarkable, and only the people around me think I am special. You might not think much to look at me now, but I was really something. I brought happiness to everyone around me and I had the grandest life of any of my kind. It was the summer of 1950 when I was first purchased from Wilson’s Hardware store. I am not sure how long I was there, but at the time, it was the only home I had ever known.  

​A kind man removed me from the stale dark box and laid me out neatly in the warm grass. Inside the box I was dark and dull, but lying there in the sun, I was immaculate; the sun’s rays danced and twinkled across my shiny red surface. While he put my pieces together, a little girl with brown curls eagerly watched his every move. I will never forget the way she looked at me. Her eyes were so innocent, yet so full of admiration and excitement. When I was completed and had legs to stand on, the two of them stood there and looked up at me. The little girl told her father I was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. I was so proud and tall. I stood there, in the brilliance of the day,in the yard with my new family. I was so happy, so peaceful, and finally at home.

​I was donned with two wooden swings that hung from me on chains and swayed in the warm summer breeze. The shiny gray sliding board reflected the sunshine like a theater spotlight. I was the talk of the town. All of the neighborhood children came to see the brand new swing set at 1341 Johnston Avenue. 

​At first they all just stared, amazed at what they saw. None of the other children were allowed to play in their own yards. Their fathers had them so well kept, with hedges and flowers, and vegetable gardens and trees, that they were afraid the children would damage their hard work; so I was the place to be. They loved me and I loved them. We developed quite a relationship that summer. The little girl with the brown curls and all of her friends came to visit me every day. We had so much fun together. I listened as they told stories and played make believe. 

​One day the children had an idea to have a circus, and I would be the main event. They posted signs around the neighborhood inviting everyone to come and see the show. They draped me with sheets to create a stage. Their mother helped them make frozen treats from a large block of ice she had purchased from the local ice house. They were very excited and so was I. I watched as they each took a turn at entertaining. A pudgy little boy and is dog performed tricks for their friends, then a blonde haired girl and her little brother did a magic trick, making a penny seem to disappear. The little girl with the brown curls sang a sweet song for everyone. We all had the time of our life. 

​As the years passed the children grew, but they still visited me almost every day.  Things had changed though, as things do. I struggled to keep my balance as they swung, causing me to sway back and forth with them. My sliding board became dull and weathered and had lost its silvery shine. One of the boys had the idea to polish it with wax paper. This made the surface so smooth that they could slide at great speeds, like ice across a marble floor.  The slide received the most attention that year, but eventually became warped from the weight of the growing children.

​Over time their visits became fewer and shorter. I watched the little girl with the brown curls slowly grow into a woman. Occasionally she would sit on my swing and read, swaying ever so slightly. Other times she would have one of the young boys over, and they would sit and talk for hours. It was not quite as exciting as days gone by, but still, I enjoyed her company. Once, one of the boys hurriedly drove out of the yard in his growling truck, leaving the young girl alone and heartbroken. She ran over to me and cried sad tears while I rocked and comforted her. 

​The inevitable time came where I was visited no more. I still saw my friends, now young adults, pass by from time to time, though they did not see me. I watched from afar, weathered and rusted, as a young woman in an elegant white dress excitedly drove away with the boy in the growling truck. I noticed her brown curls dancing in the breeze as they drove out of sight. I only saw her occasionally after that, and she often had new children in tow. I had hoped they would take an interest in me but were too occupied with their bicycles and roller skates.  There was no time to play on a rusted, withered swing set.

I am afraid I have reached the end of my exciting life. I now sit alone in this yard. My slide is cracked and stained with rust. My shiny red finish is now dull and peeling. No one has visited me in quite some time. I have the occasional company of a friendly little sparrow who comes to sing songs to me and a family of spiders has taken up residence on my weathered, broken swings. I am not complaining; this is the way it must be. I have been very fortunate in my life. I was able to give happiness to those who shared it with me.  I am happy to watch from a distance, hoping to get a glimpse of one of my childhood friends.

​What is this? An old growling truck has sputtered into the yard. Could it be? No, the man that approaches me it much too young. Still, I am hopeful that at long last I will have another visitor. He removes the broken slide, and the cob web covered swings and sets them aside. I am not sure what he is doing but I am enjoying the attention just the same. He carefully lifts me from the grass where my feet have been firmly planted for so long. 

​He moves me into the sunlight and I feel refreshed and exhilarated. The rust is gently buffed off my surface, revealing a hint of beauty. I am covered in a coat of sparkling crimson and moved to the front of the house. The view from here is far grander than anything I could have imagined. I now sit amongst the blooming hydrangeas and a wide chestnut colored swing hangs gently from my brilliant frame.

A beautifully aged woman emerges from the house to rest on my swing. The deep wrinkles of her skin show a hint of the young girl she once was. Though they are now grey, her soft curls are still familiar and I remember her look of admiration. We sit there together in the warmth of the sun; old friends,quietly reflecting on the richness of days gone by.

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