Airport Playground

When I grow up, I'm going to be an airplane pilot. Unless I become an astronaut. Anyways, I'm going to fly! 

Mama says I have to be real good at math to be a pilot, so I practice every day. I already know multiplication. I even know eleven times eleven is one hundred twenty one. 

Sometimes I mess up, though, and I write my numbers backwards, especially my nines. I get them mixed up with P's. 

Mama gets frustrated with me. She says, "Pay attention!" She's always saying that. I don't really know what it means, because it's not pay like buying something. Sometimes she says it when she wants me to listen to her. When she says it during math, she means she wants me to look at the other nines on the page before I write my nines. 

"You can't make careless mistakes like that when you're a pilot," Mama says, "or people will get hurt."

And Mama says I have to be real strong to be an astronaut, so I practice that, too. I can do a handstand for a whole minute! Plus I always do the monkey bars at the playground.

Mama takes me to the playground near the airport. It's so cool! We watch the planes fly in and out while we eat our snack on our picnic blanket. Or I watch the planes while Mama reads a book. I like the way the planes make a big circle around the airport before they land. 

I like our picnic blanket, too. It's a rainbow! It's soft and cozy and good for snuggles when I get hurt on the playground. But I always go back to playing after snuggles, even if I get hurt real bad, because I'm tough like an astronaut! 

Mama is sitting on the picnic blanket right now, reading a book. She looks so pretty. I like how she smiles just a little when she's reading. Plus she’s wearing the dress with the blue and green swirls today. It’s my favorite of Mama’s dresses, because my favorite colors are blue and green. 

I'm playing on the slide, because I already did the monkey bars 10 times today. My arms need a break! This slide is pretty fun. It's one of those bumpy ones.

When I get to the bottom, I notice a plane coming in for a landing. I'm excited! It's a real big plane! Someone behind me says, "Hey! Move!" but I'm watching the plane. It's being kind of weird. It's not turning to make a big circle.

I hear Mama say, "Sweetheart, pay attention! Someone else wants to use the slide." But I don't want to move, because I want to see the plane.

"Why is it going in a straight line, Mama?" I ask. 

Mama looks up at the sky and then drops her book. She gets up and starts running toward me. The plane looks like it's about to kiss the airport when Mama puts her body in front of me to block me from seeing anymore. She wraps her arms around me. My face is against her chest. She lifts me up and carries me to the picnic blanket. I can't see anything, but I hear the crash. 

I try to pull away from Mama, but she holds me tighter. I can tell that she's afraid. She's shaking a little bit, and her heart is beating real fast. 

"When I let you go," she says, "you're going to see a lot of smoke. But don't worry. The firetrucks are already on their way." 

I know she's right, because I can hear the sirens. "Ok Mama," I say. 

Mama's arms relax, so I can lift my head off of her body. I see a hunormous cloud of smoke getting bigger and bigger. The smoke is coming from a hole in the airport. The tail of the plane is sticking out of the hole. 

"Were there people on that plane, Mama? Did they get hurt?" 

"Yes, Baby."

"Did some of them die?" 

"I hope nobody died, but the paramedics,” Mama pauses and then starts again, “I mean, the ambulance drivers are already checking on everyone who got hurt and taking them to the hospital."

I nod my head so Mama knows I understand about paramedics. Then I ask, "What happened, Mama? Did the pilot mess up the math?" 

"I don't know, Baby."

"Did the pilot not pay attention?" 

"I don't know, Baby."

Mama isn't looking at the smoke or the hole or the tail. She's looking at me and petting my hair. But I'm looking at the place where the plane crashed. 

"When I'm a pilot, I won't crash my plane, right Mama?" 

"Do you still want to be a pilot, Baby?" 

Mama takes both my hands in her hands. She has real soft hands. I stop looking at the sky so I can look at her hands. She lifts my hands up to her lips. She kisses each one of my knuckles. I feel wetness on my hands, but it's not all from the kisses. Mama is crying. I see now that Mama is crying on my hands. 

"You don't want me to be a pilot, because you don't want me to crash my plane and die, right Mama?" 

"Yeah, Baby. I don't want you to die, but you can still be a pilot when you grow up if you want to."

I don’t understand how Mama can let me be a pilot after this. I say, "But you will be so sad if I die! I don't want to make you cry, Mama." 

Mama wraps her arms around me and pulls me close to her chest again. She smells good, like coconut. "It's ok," she says, "You don't have to decide today." 

Mama holds me on the picnic blanket for a long time. Her heart beat slows down, and her breathing gets real long. The firetruck and ambulance sirens are fading away. I try to count Mama's heartbeats, but I fall asleep.