Parks, Playhouses, And Colourful Imaginations

6 years old

I was a pretty tough Six year old, I fell a lot. I was really clumsy but I always got up and acted like it didn't happen, with all honesty I'm happy I was that way. I would always go to a park, you could find me there at the top of a slide staring at a telephone pole, watching the Isles of flightless bird get ready to take a crap on someone below. It was fun to watch, I would get lost in it. Occasionally getting pushed down the slide by some twat who wanted to go down it, this park had nine slides. I sat on the biggest one, the swirly one that was a pain to go down because exposed skin would always stick to it. It was just an old Metal slide, and nothing more or less. I loved it. Metal slides were flawed though, the sun would always reflect off it causing it to burn your entire body when you went down it. Not that it mattered to me, but it seemed to bug others. Everything seemed to bug everyone else, I never understood why though. I guess I was pledged to learn one day, boy I didn't see it coming. One day as I approached the park hand in hand with my mother after not going for so long, I noticed something. There was no park anymore, I didn't go for two weeks. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that they could take something so special away within two weeks, now I understand that it's so much different than just two weeks . They can take away what and who we love in seconds, why though? Why must they take away these things. It's like getting your leg cut off and told to run for the hills, it's impossible. You can't just get these things back, but I'm willing to try and get them back. Sit back and read on in the story of Parks, Playhouses, and Colourful Imaginations

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