Swings

"What are you doing?"

The boy slows down his swinging and looks at the other boy before him. Older by a few years, taller, with bright green eyes, thick eyebrows and hair the color of the sun. He's looking at him with a curious expression on his face with his hands on his hips - almost as if what the younger boy was doing was much more interesting than the game he was playing just a few minutes earlier. The child on the swings doesn't answer, instead continuing to look at the elder with a stoic expression. The older boy isn't fazed.

"You trying to swing higher?"

The younger boy stays continues to stay quiet, looking up at the bar his swing is attached to, before looking again towards the strange boy and nodding slowly. The elder gives a small 'hmm', puts a finger to his chin and nods. After that, he walks behind the younger boy and sets his hands on the chains, just above the sitting child's own hands.

"Okay then, how about I push you? You'll go even higher that way."

The boy on the swings considers this for a moment. Will he really let this older boy push him? He might be one of those mean boys who likes to bully younger children. Maybe he should just call his okaa-san. But then again, he does want to swing higher . . .

"Well?"

It takes a moment for the boy to reach a decision. He gives a nod of approval. The older boy grins and begins to set to work. "Kick your legs front and back while I push," he instructs the younger. "That way you'll go higher, okay?"

Kick back, push, kick front. Swing, kick back, push, kick front. It starts out slow at first, but soon the elder's words become true and the boy on the swing finds himself going higher and higher. The feeling of swinging high into the air is exilherating for him. Soon enough he is so high that despite his quiet demeanor the child cannot help but react. The one pushing him is laughing. Soon he is laughing too . . .

The playground from my childhood is still there. I'm surprised to have found it in the exact spot we left it despite all these years. In fact, I didn't even remember it was there. I guess it was very lucky of me then that I had come across it tonight, or else I would've forgotten about it completely. The paint has mostly worn off on all the equipment, the sandbox has nothing much in it anymore (save for an old bent-up shovel and a plastic pail with a hole in it) and the trees that used to surround it have all gone. However, the playground is generally still in good shape, and many of the playthings - the slide, the seesaws, the merry-go-round, the swings - are still good for play despite the chipped-off paint and the rust. It's a very good thing indeed that I rediscovered it. However, I'm tired from my walk, and I really must rest.

It makes one wonder what a nineteen-year-old is doing taking walks around his village at ten o'clock in the evening. It cannot seem to be helped - every time the late night comes, I go out and walk. It's a nice feeling, when you're walking around your village and it's late at night, with all the lamps around you lit and the stars shining above you on your short journey - there was a certain peacefulness I felt when it was only myself and the spirits of the night walking along the roads and sidewalks. Nowadays, however, even the stillness of evening cannot make me feel completely peaceful. Even on these solitary walks I feel as if I have a great weight on my shoulders - a great weight nothing can take off.

I sigh quietly and sit on one of the seats of the old swing set. My hands coil around the chains that attach it to the bar above me as I wearily look about my surroundings. Everything around me - the playground, the houses, the street, the lamps - are so quiet, so tranquil. But at the same time they're not. I look up towards the night sky, where many faded but visible stars shine and twinkle above me. Am I looking for answers in them? If I am, then maybe the question I want to ask is why is it that I don't feel as good as I used to a long time ago? Why do I feel so worn-out? I push myself on the swing slowly, but not enough to lift me off the ground. Why should I? I'm too old for that already.

It's so very quiet here in this playground at night all by myself, with only some lamps and children's playthings to keep me company. It's a lovely landscape. But at the same time, it's lonely. I give a loud sigh and stop swaying myself with the swings. I feel tired. Maybe also a bit sad. I try not to show it, however, even if there is no one to see me. I'm not one to make my feelings visible on my face. I look frontward, not looking at anything in particular. It is a very lonely night indeed.

"Kiku? What in blazes are you doing here so late?"

The voice startles me a bit. I turn my head round quickly to see another man standing a few feet behind me. Older by a few years, and slightly taller than me, with bright green eyes, thick eyebrows and hair the color of the sun. He's dressed in his favorite black coat, for it's a cold night as well as dark. One hand of his is holding a flashlight. I recognize him immediately.

"Ah, A-Arthur-san," I stammer, face going warm. I stand up from the swing's seat, trying to make my face as stoic as possible, and bow respectfully, as I always do with everyone. "It's nice to see you. What are you doing here?"

Arthur-san rests his free hand on his hip and rolls his eyes. "I just asked you the same thing," he mutters, loud enough for me to hear. "And at this hour, too. Shouldn't you be at home by now? I know I would be."

"Ah, I don't feel very tired, if that's what you mean," I say. "In fact, I am rather restless during this time . . . but wait," I realize something. "What are you doing here then, Arthur-san?"

"Eh? Me? Well, I uh . . ." He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "I, I guess I was restless tonight, too. Heh." He looks around us and suddenly I see recognition and realization in his eyes.

"Wait a minute . . . Oh my goodness, I can't believe it!" His eyes are wide with wonder. "Haha, we're in that old playground we used to play in!" He puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head. "I thought they've torn down this place already . . ."

I cannot help but give a small chuckle. "Well, they haven't it seems," I reply. My eyes follow Arthur-san as he goes about the area, examining closely the rusting remnants of our childhood.

"This is where I pushed Francis off the top and broke his nose!," he exclaims, shining his flashlight over the old slide. "And that merry-go-round - that's where I hid Antonio's sneakers!" His eyes and flashlight then drift away to the dated swing set. "And this . . . this is where I met you, right?" I see a fond smile form on his face. For some reason, I feel my face flush. "On this exact same swing, too. I remember, it was blue-colored. Heheh. You were trying to swing, and I pushed you higher . . ."

I couldn't help but smile despite myself. "That is correct, Arthur-san," I reply quietly. Arthur-san nods towards me, then directs himself toward the swing. His green eyes suddenly dull as his expression grows distant - and sad.

"Yeah, lots of memories here," he murmurs bitterly before sighing and seating himself on the swing beside my swing. I sit down too. It's here that I see the dark circles around his eyes. Admittedly it surprises me, though I do not show it to him. "You look tired," is all I could say to him. Arthur-san turns to me and gives a weak chuckle.

"You do too, Kiku," he retorts, before bowing his head down with a sigh. We stay quiet for a few seconds, then he looks up and around us at all the equipment of this playground.

". . . May I know what happened to you, Arthur-san?," I ask as quietly as I could. "I-if you don't mind me asking, that is."

He ponders this for a few seconds, then nods. "Mmm. Well," he begins, "I lost my job at the coffeeshop yesterday. Then that bloody idiot Alfred makes my day worse by breaking my mother's very expensive glass bowl. Then I try to find a new job today, and I haven't succeeded in getting one. And now I can't pay the bills, and the bowl, and . . ." He hides his face in his hands.

All this time I can't help but feel sorry for him. "Ah, I . . . I apologize to hear that," I say, looking down towards the grass below us. It hurts me to see Arthur-san like this. If only there was a way I could help him.

"And what about you?," he asks me after a moment's silence. "What's your problem?"

I hesitate to tell him of my troubles. I am a very private person; I would rather try to solve my problems on my own than depend on others, even friends, for help. But was this the reason I have been feeling so down lately? I cannot bring myself to tell him or anyone about my twin sister's car accident, or about the constant pressure I've been feeling at school, or the fact that I picked the course I didn't really want, or my feelings for him, or . . .

No, I decide to keep myself quiet about it. I only shake my head and keep my face as straight as I can. Arthur-san then gets the message.

"Oh, right. You're the type to keep quiet about these things." He gives a small, embarrased laugh. "Sorry, forgot who I was talking to." The tone of his voice makes me feel terrible for some reason. It would seem unfair for me to stay quiet while he had opened up to me about these things. Eventually I relent a bit.

"I . . . I am just going through a lot," I murmur, wondering to myself if Arthur-san had heard me. As proof that he had, he nods. I don't really think the answer satisfied him, but I cannot relate any more. I'm tired. I feel myself pushing forward and backward ever so slightly. However my feet never get off the ground.

Memories of the last time Arthur-san and I were in this playground flow into my consciousness. I was already pre-pubescent while Arthur-san was in his early teens. It was during that time where we - and most everyone else - had decided that we were already too old to be playing in there anymore. Not only were we too big for the slide and the sandbox, but also it just seemed ridiculous for us to be staying where "little ones" played. We weren't children anymore. We were now ready for the world of growing-up, and we were all excited to enter that world and never look back towards the old swings and slides.

Now that I think about it, growing up is not as great as my eleven-year-old self imagined it would be. All these problems and worries we would never have thought of as children . . .

The night is as still and as quiet as ever now, save for the creaking of the chains. The stars above us are still twinkling lightly, adorning the night sky with their beauty. Arthur-san sighs, gets up from his swing and walks, stopping just in front of me. I watch him, coiling my hands around the chains of my swing again. There are no words between us.

It's Arthur-san who speaks first. "You know," he starts with a bitter tone, "when I was younger I thought if I was a grown-up, life would become much easier for me." He shakes his head. "Turns out it's not. In fact, it's harder than those days. Bloody hell, I hardly ever get a break anymore. Heh." He looks away, surveying the rusted object of our childhood kingdom. "As much as I hate to admit it, kids are lucky . . ."

It takes a while before I reply to his musings. My thoughts drift over to those old days, where swinging on this swing would make me forget my problems automatically. The feeling of almost-flight used to take me away . . .

"This playground used to take away all our problems. Remember when my okaa-san died in the hospital? Or when your father left you and your mother?" Arthur-san says nothing. I continue. "When those days came, we went here and played on the slides and the merry-go-round. And this swing. I would swing, and you would push me higher . . ."

Suddenly Arthur-san bursts out laughing. "A-are you suggesting we play here like we used to?" I do not reply to this. Arthur-san continues laughing, but soon it dies down and he looks straight at me. His eyes are tired.

"I don't think we can anymore, Kiku. We're both too old."

I nod in agreement. Nineteen and twenty-three are too old of ages to be playing in a playground suited for children below twelve. I sigh and look up once again at the night sky above us. Silence rules over the playground once more. I remember something.

"Arthur-san," I begin, gripping the swing chains tighter. Arthur-san looks directly at me with a curious expression on his face. "Hmm?," he sounds. I feel my face go warm once again and I look down at the grass to avoid his gaze.

"I-I just remembered . . . What I had said earlier, about the time my okaa-san died . . . When I told you about it, you stayed quiet for a while . . . then you hugged me, and told me it was going to be alright." I muster the courage to face him. "That is what truly made me feel better. Even before the swings." 

"Oh . . ." Arthur-san replies. He looks up towards the stars, then back to me. "Yes, now that I remember it . . . When that bastard left my mum, you were the first one I told about it . . . I was angry, ranting my mouth off, and you were just listening . . . that was comfort enough, admittedly." He gives me a sheepish grin. It makes him look adorable, to be honest. "Even before the slide."

"Ah." This time, I really can't help but smile despite myself. "Of course, Arthur-san. You can tell me any of your problems, if you like. I shall always listen, and I shall always try my best to help you."

Arthur-san gives a light chuckle. "Thanks," he says. "And you know . . . if you have problems, you don't always need to keep them to yourself. You can always tell someone . . . you can always tell me." He bends over to be level with my eyes. "And I'll try my best to help you too."

I ponder over his words for a moment. "Alright," I reply quietly, still smiling. "When the right time comes, I will tell you."

"That's good."

Before I could react Arthur-san leans closer and kisses me full on the lips. I am surprised by the sudden gesture, but eventually I am enraputured and close my eyes. The kiss is light and soft. There is no passion, no dominance, nothing. Just a light, loving kiss. It feels sweet and warm and wonderful. Just like childhood.

We stay like this for a moment. It is a good thing there is no one else watching us. The night air is getting colder, but I don't feel it. Everything is silent except for the quiet creaking of the swing.

When we pull away from the kiss I emit a soft sigh. The realization of what we just did then hits me, and I am suddenly embarrassed, looking down at the grass to avoid Arthur-san's eyes. My cheeks are flushed and my lip is quivering. "You . . . you must take responsibility," I say to Arthur-san in a shaky voice. Yet deep inside I feel so happy . . .

Arthur-san only gives a little laugh. "Of course, of course," he assures me. Suddenly he stands up straight and looks upward. "Oh . . . Did you see that?"

"Ah? See what?" I ask him.

"The shooting star."

At the mention of it, I direct my eyes up towards the night sky, where millions of stars twinkle above us. They seem to have become brighter now. However I do not see the shooting star that Arthur-san spoke of. Legend says that when one sees a shooting star they are eligible to make a wish on it. It is like the story back home about folding a thousand paper cranes to get a wish. I do not completely understand these Western concepts of gaining wishes, however the story of wishing stars is admittedly rather fun to go along with.

"I do not see any shooting star, Arthur-sa . . . Ah!"

Just then, a white streak of light flies across the sky, passing the many other stationary stars. I continue to stare in awe. That was the first time I have ever seen such a shooting star and I cannot shake off the feeling of wonder that had come with seeing it for the first time.

"Did . . . did you see that, Arthur-san?"

"Sure did." He then turns to look at me and smiles. "Why don't you make a wish, then? I've already made mine."

"Ah, ri-right." I sigh and lay my hands on my lap as I think of what to wish for. What should I wish for? I look around at the playground we are in - the playground from my forgotten childhood - and a wave of sadness comes toward me . . .

I close my eyes and wish.

As I was wishing I did not notice that Arthur-san had gone from in front of me. The presence of two hands on the swing chains open my eyes from my wishing, and I turn my head over my shoulder to see Arthur-san behind me, his hand gripping the chains. He is smiling. This causes me to grip onto the swing chains involuntarily.

"Arthur-san?"

"Do you want me to push you?"

"What?!"

"I asked if you wanted me to push you, since you're on a swing and all."

"But aren't . . . aren't we too old?"

"Let's forget that for a moment, love," Arthur-san whispers, planting a light kiss on the top of my head. My face goes warm all over again. But I think about his words, then the the playground, then my shooting star wish. There is silence for a short while . . .

"Well?"

. . . I nod.

Arthur-san gives a boyish grin. "Alright then," he says, setting himself up. I on the other hand turn again to face the front, where the trees that would drop their leaves used to be. I adjust myself so my feet are a few inches off the ground. Then I kick forward, swing back, and Arthur-san pushes me . . .

It starts off rather slowly at first, but we gain momentum, and later I am soaring. The swing goes higher and higher, and the feeling is pure exhileration. Memories of the times I would swing here come back to me. Almost-flight. Behind me, I can hear Arthur-san laughing. My Arthur-san, whom growing-up had turned from a bright-eyed young boy to a serious and admittedly grumpy young man, laughing like he used to all those years ago. It's the most wonderful sound in the world.

And soon, despite myself, and the cold night, and growing-up, I am laughing too . . .

I wish that I could relive my childhood, even for just a short while.

END.