Midday Moon

I was the wind. The sound of me, my father.

“Phooo…. hooo…. blow like the wind!” he said as he pushed me, as I went forth… and back to him… forth… and back again.

I ran my wind fingers in the emerald locks of the trees. I curled myself like the breeze and soared into the blue skies. My wind fingers held on tight to the chains as I let loose and fell back into the arms of gravity. And my dad was there to push me. 

I spied the half-moon as he slid in and out of its hiding place, peeking in and out from behind the trees, and it was the middle of the day. How exciting it was to see the midday moon, to greet him after lunch… and it wasn’t bedtime. And my dad pushed behind me, making my wind sounds, blowing me higher and higher. And I was the wind.

Children lined up by the metal bars of the swing set, awaiting their turn. I knew nothing of it… I was in a world of my own. I watched the trees as they turned their heads toward me and away. As I swung forward, they turned to look at me. And all the leaves slid past each other to hide their faces as I fell back, to be pushed again. The spiral slide in the middle of the playground swirled back and forth with my swinging, children screaming as they rode down the ruffles of its skirt, children floating down, to climb again up the spiral ladder, stepping one after another like a herd of horses on its triangular, yellow rungs. I twirled the slide as I swung to and fro. The see-saws, the merry-go-round all danced around me as I blew like the wind. 

I had the world at my control, worshippin me. I spun the earth on my wind fingertips, curling to and fro as my dad pushed.

“Push harder!”

“Phooooooooo…”

For a moment I stretched my legs above the treetops. For a moment, the clouds came so close to my face that I almost felt a cold, wet kiss on my face. A fleeting moment of sky blue painted my entire being. For a moment, I closed my eyes, and flew… but I was a young bird. I soared down, to be pushed again.

“Can you push yourself with your legs now?”

I fell back into reality. Impatient children awaited their turn at the swing set.

“Baba… let’s go home.”