i’m sitting here at our old city park, trying to stay out of site/mind while my friend takes H’s senior pictures on the old basketball court.
the weather is beautiful. squirrels (!!) everywhere. laughter and squeals of happy children are being carried in the breeze, mixing with the melodies of birds in the tempo of the rustling leaves.
no sadness exists in this place where the memories–and a bit of melancholy–abound.
I remember the boys playing on the playground. chasing each other. pretending to be in some mock war.
countless T-ball and coach pitch games.
birthday parties with the whole family. picnics.
basketball games with all the boys and their friends on these old netless rims.
the scene is perfect:
sitting here, watching him in this place where he spent so much time as a child, now a young man of 18, about to embark on a new phase of his life.
and then I’m jarred out of my memories by
“Dad, come rebound.”
and I smile.