Sunday, July 19, 2009

Childhood Playgrounds - Passage One

Passage One:

The heavy rusted door to the single room apartment shut behind us with an unforgiving silence. Our eyes looked forward towards the hills that sat before us, waiting for our return. Holding hands, we ran up as fast as we could to greet the sun kissed flowers that guarded these hills.

We engaged freely in laughter, and fun, as we chased the butterflies that fluttered about, in the blooming meadow. The tall swaying grass guided us in a confused direction, as we zig-zagged our way in hidden amazement. Exhausted from grasping for butterflies under the open sky, we collapsed to the earth, to lie on our backs.

We closed our eyes, and day dreamed, while the sun warmed our faces. Interrupting the silence, Muri rolled over to her side to hold out in her hand long strands of leafy stems. Gently, she weaved the leafy stems into my long braided hair. She looked up and smiled as she gathered some wild flowers between her fingers. Her smile told me she was ready to hear more about the beautiful and dark world of the Fairies.

As I described to her, the cold dark world the Fairies had to endure, she sat up, and joined in telling the fantasy. As we continued to add to our story, the once brightly lit sky, hung above us, casting our shadows, in the event of changing to dusk. Muri reached out her hand and pulled me up to sit beside her. As my eyes explored the tops of the swaying yellow grass, I spotted a dragonfly sitting on the tip of a leaf. I reached out my arms and enclosed it in my hands. Before it could fly away, I quickly held it by it's wings and then set it free. We looked up to see the dragonfly zip up and down into sky.

Time had slipped away, and we knew we soon had to part. Muri glanced over to me, smiled and said, "KyungMee!' I did not need to respond, for both of us reached into our pockets and pulled out a thin comb and paper. We folded the paper in half and slid the comb in between the paper. We cleared our throats, and began to blow though the paper. Whistling sounds came forth, as we slid the comb back and forth. Before another evening had closed, Muri and I had made beautiful music together.

**** This piece I wrote when I was 18 years old. I find myself reading over these pieces and questioning if I would be true to the events of my past if I would write them in their original form. Meaning content. Some memories stay with you holding the images and their emotions protected. Like this memory of child play and innocence. As time goes by, memories can trick you and haunt you, they tell you how they should live inside you. It grows and turns attaching itself to the different stages of your emotions and thoughts. But, some memories, stay protected and stay close to you always.

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