I wonder how my muscles, that itched to fly in the sun outside, held me still at my airconditioned desk? While we struggled to find meaning in first year algebra or 18th century literary works or incisioning dead rats.
How did my eyes, that were drawn to fun or surprising or new books promising Vikings, adventures, magic and intrigue! – allow me to bludger them with the required ones, over and over, til I coaxed myself to reluctantly wring some meaning from their stale pages?
I could play the game, but all this time, did it really make my heart bubble up with magic and laughter?
I could play their game, I won’t lie at all. In many ways it was fun to see what I could do, how far I could go. But when the numbness took hold, REALLY took hold, all these years later, the thing that snapped me out – was the monkey bars.
I glanced up. My mind stopped me. Held my muscles in their rightful adult place: Walking a line along the footpath. There they were, softly swinging, winding through the sandpit, like a long lost memory. Inside my mind, that small, squashed, unused part that had been flogged into quietude by textbooks and university admissions and grading and success –
Here it was, stirring, opening an eye like a playful dragon after sleep.
I hardly recognised her.
Yet after all these years, she felt warm, familiar, golden light bubbling up in my heart in wonder at our world, the endless possibilities, the beauty of this universe – it felt, like home.
I think that next time, I might let myself take a swing. Allow a small giggle to escape.
I miss the playgrounds, but the savvy, cunning, curious girl who ran them upside down: She’s still here.
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