Last night, I was on my way home from work, and noticed that the Lippitt Park playground is reasonably well lit after dark. I've driven past this playground many times. It's my family's favorite playground to visit. We often attend the farmer's market there. But I saw it for the first time last night. It was one of those odd moments of something familiar becoming new for just a moment. I continued home. I put my children to bed, and left again to meet some friends for a night out after the stress of the past couple of weeks.
After a fun night out, I purposely headed home in the direction that would once again take me past Lippitt Park. Once again, it was well lighted. This time, I pulled over. I took a walk around, feeling the happiness of childhood there, and decided to climb to the top of the monkey bars. There I sat. I only spent a few minutes on that dome. It was cold, and the breeze simultaneously cut through me and caressed me. The silence was both lonely and beautiful. I suddenly felt happy and free, a feeling I'd needed for weeks. I climbed down, and went home feeling as light as a laugh on the breeze.
I learned two things last night. Sometimes we need to let go of the seriousness of life and embrace our childhood, even if we are well beyond those years. The other thing is, if one decides to sit on top of monkey bars in New England in October at 2am, one should be wearing socks . . .
