A Little Nostalgia (writing warm-up)
My morning ritual of listening to music was interrupted with two small forms standing in my doorway. These forms were none other than my cousins, two twin girls who had a lot of similar characteristics to being identified as a Weasley.
“Do you want to go to the park?” One of them asked.
No, I really did not want to go to the park. I wanted to sit in my room with my headphones on while dreading the moment that I would have to be a responsible adult and get ready for work. The idea of walking then waiting in the cold while trying to keep a constant head count of three did not sound like fun. There are in fact many things I would much rather do; sadly, being a responsible adult and getting ready for work was one of them.
I had every intention of saying no. In fact, I went to open my mouth to give some excuse as to not accompanying them when my little sister popped into my doorway with a pleading look on her face. With the combined looks of hope on the twins and the look of desperation on my sister I had really no choice but to say yes.
“Yeah, sure. Let’s go to the park.” happened to be my reluctant response.
Much later, after the many minutes spent trying to locate one damned sock and struggling to secure a broken zipper, we were on our way. With the twins dragging me down the street and my little sister with their brother in tow, I found myself closer and closer to the park that we always loved to visit when I was a child.
I found many memories soon rising once we had approached the playground, as they have a tendency to do. It took a few moments to stop myself from looking towards the direction of where my childhood best friend used to live. The horrendously bright blue home her family had some time ago occupied no longer housed them; the urge to call her or pop up at her house was pointless. However, that knowledge didn’t stop my from wishing to drag her to the park as well.
“I can’t get up!” was the angry cry that stopped my wishing. It was Bella, the slightly taller twin, trying- and failing- to securely sit on one of the swings. After untangling the girl and the swing (how can a kid manage that?) I found myself on a swing next to the girls. As I slowly pumped my legs back and forth I found myself thinking of my elementary school days.
When I was little, the swings were the best part of recess. They were much vied for and often required a timed limit. But these terms were worth being able to slowly lift higher and higher above the ground. My favorite goal while swinging was to find myself higher than the top of the school. Once I hit the same height and higher, I would imagine myself soaring far beyond the school grounds. It was actually very freeing.
This goal has long since then been undesirable and unattainable. Swinging more than a few moments brings on a wave of nausea, something that had developed in my later teen years. To add to the discomfort, the seats dig uncomfortably, slightly painfully, into my thighs that have expanded greatly since youth.
Thankfully (all though it was irritating) the discomfort of sitting on a swing was interrupted with the repetitive cycling of the girls, who had taken to asking for help to get on the swing, to only swing for less than a minute before asking to get down.
I didn’t really care for my childhood thoughts or to swing anyways.
These trips down memory lane often bring on silly, stupid memories and thoughts that I have long since abandoned, but it doesn’t stop them from resurfacing. There is really no purpose to me recalling them, or even sharing them for that matter. But I did feel some inkling today to use it at a little writing warm-up while working on my WIP. (Hell yeah alliteration). So here I am, writing this in the midst of dealing with the “I peed myself” fiasco. Kids are fun, right?
Anyways, here was this little drabble. Kudos if you read it all the way through.
Until next time