The Yard

The Yard

They race around the schoolyard much like we did finding special corners and places to plot; swinging wildly face down, arms extended, on swings hung from chains; sharing secrets in the sandbox.  Living each in her and his head and assuming everyone else is on the same track, part of the same game.  But there are as many games taking place as there are children. 

“Get them!” shouts a male leader, running toward some girls and growling like a lion.  Others follow, but aren’t sure what to do when they get there.  A few girls scramble, whether feeling at risk or willing to be the prey it’s impossible to tell.  One stands straight and growls along, joining the hunting party. It happens instantaneously, without a thought or plan.  No, “where are we going?” or “why?”  They just go.

We battled for dominance on the jungle gym.  It seemed very high being on top of the structure, probably twice our own height.  I don’t recall throwing anyone off or being thrown off, but I suspect it happened.  Me, I was either Superman or Batman, depending on the day.  And I took offense if someone else thought he was the same superhero—that couldn’t be.  Jody Newberg may have played with us, but no other girls.  This was male territory, it was known.

The joy of the swinging and running kids is boundless and true.  What a release!  They are free within the large enough boundaries of the yard, with places to group or be alone, to run or climb, to invent a fortress or castle.  We adults run with purpose, to keep the heart pumping and stay fit, to lose a few pounds, to catch a train.  Some do it outdoors, many inside on treadmills that rise and fall to the desired intensity.  We may lose ourselves in it but any joy is hidden.

I like to skip from time to time, not just figuratively but literally.  I skip. My wife thinks I skip pretty well, smoothly and quickly, and I can cover ground pretty quickly that way, rather than jog or run.  The simple act of skipping makes me different and a little self-conscious.  It’s so childlike, so dated, so silly looking. 

And it’s so much fun.