A Park in the Rain

Part 1

I sit on the park bench watching the sky grow dark. Not the kind of blotchy purple that sets in after sunset. I'm talking about the deep layers of grey that tumble over each other as they race across the horizon. The wind picks up in correspondence; it streaks through the trees to whip past my stationary silhouette. The wind or the clouds or the ominous atmospheric pressure drop drive my fellow parkgoers away. They hustle along the sidewalks clutching briefcases close and unfolding umbrellas as they hurry on their ways.

As the first crack of thunder sounds, my rage mounts. It's her fault. She was driving. It has to be her fault.

And then my thoughts forge on. They brave the anger and blame and guilt; they climb the barriers I've constructed and trek into the barren territory I've only let myself into once so far: the sadness. It's a feeling more intense than any other I've endured. I let go and feel it rip through my body, carving tunnels for itself and then leaving them painfully hollow. Once the violent sadness has run its course, I'm left exposed and empty, hunched over on my park bench no longer able to feel the rain or hear the thunder.

Slowly, almost tenderly, a stream of memories appears. A paper thin hospital gown against my comforting hand. A soft blanket against my arm. The scent of baby oil. A stack of new diapers. Shoes fit for a doll. Then bigger shoes and the giggles only evoked by my tickled monster. A pair of grass stained shorts. Pumping legs on a swing set.  A new baseball glove. The first Little League game. A car ride. A kid in the road. A swerve. A tree. A hush.

I squeeze my eyes tighter, wishing for sunlight bright enough to erase the images with vivid colors and mindless patterns. I get only rain. Without respite, the memories are too much.

I'm running. Running away. Away from the empty swing set facing me.

Thanks for reading! I'd love to get any feedback or advice in the comments!