swinging in snow
The school has been closed for years. They say that they’re going to turn it into condos eventually but there’s always one thing or another holding that up.
The playground is still there. It’s closed, but all of the equipment was left trapped in the concrete. The jungle gym. The line of swings.
Last night I walked by on my way home from work, just past sunset when everything was getting dim despite the winter white.
And as I passed by the swings they started to sway, deliberately, one by one along the line until they were all swinging, back and forth.
Chains squeaking in the snow-quiet as invisible children swung ever higher.
It would have been frightening if it hadn’t looked like such fun.
About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.