I went with Mum to a playground we hadn’t been to in a while. This was in a neighbourhood where I had kiddy art lessons while she went to work, though I was so young that I only have a handful of memories relating to the place.
One of them was of missing Mum so terribly that when I spied Mum at the stone staircase that Bro and I were climbing down of at the school, I ran to her and, burying my face in her grey pencil skirt, burst into tears. I remember Mum asking me over and again what was wrong, but all I could do was to shake my head in her tear-stained skirt, too overwhelmed with emotion and too lacking in vocabulary to convey the inexplicable feelings that had overcome me.
Those were the days. I’ve (mostly) grown out of my shell since then, but I’ll never grow out of playgrounds.
Here’s an old photo Mum took of me when I was six:
Never be too old to play! :)
Photos assisted by Mum.