In a Park where I Played as a Child

Walking through a playground by the home of a childhood friend, I found myself remembering.




There are so many places we frolicked here. I found it a bit surreal to look at the swingsets and jungle gyms and see how small they are, since in my memory they towered like skyscrapers...




Other memories tower too.

I remember her dunken father: unsteady on their yellow porch, bellowing.



Remember how afraid she was to walk across the grass alone to her abusive father's fists. (She spent the night at my house so often as a child that my mom bought us bunkbeds. When we were just a few feet tall, she told me she wanted to run away. She didn't, though -- how far can a ten year old girl run?)



I found myself wondering about her: hoping she has found a safer place to be -- and still feeling afraid.



Did she marry a man like her father?