It is night and the playground is empty. It feels kind of spooky walking in a deserted playground. If you listen hard enough, it is almost as if you can still hear echoes of the children’s ghosts. I pick a toadstool stool, and I sit down. To contemplate the darkness around me.
I don’t remember if I was fond of playgrounds when I was young. But judging from my fear of falling down and being embarrassed, I would guess not. Although, I think I might have liked see-saws and swings, structures which playgrounds are doing without these days.
I’ve been thinking a lot about children recently. Perhaps that is why I wandered here. I am at the age where it’s appropriate to “have children”, not that my biological clock is ticking in any sense. It’s just that a lot of what I do lately involve children, and I hope a lot of what I do in the future will involve children too. You see, I would like to be a speech therapist specializing in children’s speech issues.
My inspiration comes from many years ago. I was then a teenager helping out in a school for the handicapped. Most of the kids in my class were non-verbal, on top of their physical disabilities. Each week, I’d go down to the school and help them with their schoolwork, like colouring, or writing the alphabets, or counting. Sometimes we’ll put the music on and let them dance. I tried to interact with them as much as I could, always feeling a little sad that they were unable to communicate with me.
On my last day there, this little girl came up to me. She took my hand, pointed, and said, “Watch.” My eyes filled up with tears.
And that moment, is what I hope to recapture.