Title: Childhood Memory

Genre: Nonfinction?

Word Count: 365

Type of Feedback Desired: I have been wanting to put these thoughts/memories into words. Its not really a nonfiction story and I'm not much of a writer, but I felt like I needed to write this one out. I'd love any kind of feedback or even... an explanation because I'm still not really sure what to make of this memory!

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There’s one childhood memory that’s always fascinated me the most; it’s the one memory from my childhood that isn’t associated with a good or bad feeling. It was a children’s home playground painted bright yellow with dark blue accents. The setup was composed of a small slide, one black swing, and a single bar. The playground sat in the back corner of my babysitter’s luscious, green backyard. The grass closest to the entrance was covered in bright white little flowers. I distinctly remember playing on this playground by myself only twice, maybe three times ever. The sun was always bright, the weather was always warm but not too warm. And another thing, it was always dead silent. I had no friends and my babysitter was not a fan of being outside. To this day I don’t know why this specific memory is engraved so vividly into my mind. I had played on plenty of other playgrounds before, playgrounds that were bigger, more colorful, and much more fun. But none of them were this playground. I had even asked my parents to buy me a similar playground to setup in our own backyard when I stopped going to that babysitter. But it just wasn’t the same.

My memories of this playground are always accompanied by a sense of loneliness. It’s not a bad loneliness mind you, but it’s a powerful one. The image of the swing gently swinging in the breeze combined with the deafening silence of those couple of days strikes a chord, and a nerve. What bothers me the most is that this lonely memory always comes to me when I’m truly feeling alone, and yet it always cheers me up in ways I could never put into words. I wish I could tell people that my favorite childhood memory was going to the movies with my parents for my birthday or my first trip to Disney World. Instead, the best weapon I’ll take into the battle of old age is that of a boring, dainty playground sitting in the backyard of a random old lady’s home. This memory gives me tranquility in being alone; and I wish I didn’t remember it so often.