Beware the Trip Down Memory Lane

photo by Brandon King

“I noticed a playground with kids and parents laughing. I began walking over, but was met with wet and muddy grass.”

Brandon King, Staff Reporter

In search of memories, I was instantly met with the icy chill of winter attacking my nose and ears. I zipped up my coat, marched towards the cold, and headed for tiered rows of bleachers. They were turned in a way that showed they weren’t in use during this season. I approached one and running my hand along it, the splintered wood nearly cut deep into my cold skin.

I recoiled my hand and turned from the bleachers, walking towards the wooden canopy to my left. Under the wooden structure were two benches that could be used for different activities. I saw a black grill, scarred with scorch marks that told its story.

I noticed a playground with kids and parents laughing. I began walking over, but was met with wet and muddy grass. Every step I took felt like sludge, the mud oozing from the bottom of my shoes. I made it to the concrete and smiled, remembering when I was younger and how much fun I used to have there.

I then strolled towards the back of the park where the baseball fields were. I looked around, seeing nothing, no one. It seemed everyone had suddenly disappeared. It had become a ghost town.  Everyone on the playground had left. I just kept walking towards the back of the park.

Seeing the baseball field, I smiled and remembered my few years playing baseball when I was younger. The gate had been left open, so  I marched out onto the pitcher’s mound, through the soggy dirt and mud. I had never been on the mound before. It was somewhat underwhelming.

I walked off the field, my shoes squishing sound as I exited through the gate, heading back to the playground. The mulch of the playground crunched and crumbled under my feet. I examined one of the slides, thinking for a moment before climbing the ladder.

I stood at the edge of the large green slope, sitting down and letting gravity work. As I slid, I used one hand to hold the railing and steady myself. I felt a slight tingle in my finger before I yelled in shock.

After laughing at my reaction to the static electricity that had shocked me, I decided to end my adventure down memory lane.

Heading to the parking lot, I was greeted by a wonderful sight — the tennis courts I used to practice on in grade school.

I reached the small slope that led to the courts. Entering the large tennis court, I sighed contently and turned away.