2003-08-15
Childhood Memory
When I was younger, my mother took my brother and I to a playground for the afternoon.
We brought our lunch, a blanket and some sand pails and shovels. The playground was right near the zoo, and if you listened closely, you could hear the lions roaring.
After arriving, we spread the blanket on the ground and unpacked our lunches. My brother and I were too busy swinging and climbing and running to be interested in food. We skipped back periodically for a bite of sandwich or a sip of water.
Maybe a half-hour later, I had to use the restroom. My mom wasn't about to let me go alone, so she insisted that my brother stop what he was doing and join us for a potty break. We left the blanket and lunch on the ground and headed to the public facilities.
I was not prepared for what would happen when we returned to the playground.
There was only one other child on the playground that day. A boy. He was probably my age at the time, maybe nine or ten. Mostly he hung around the swings, watching us out of the corner of his eye. I thought nothing of it.
As we ran back to our blanket from the restrooms, we looked down and noticed that most of the food was gone. Along with the boy.
He took our half-eaten lunches and disappeared.
I was struck by this realization with such sadness, I couldn't play any more. I realized that all the while he watched us, he wasn't seeking companionship or a new playmate. He was hungry. He was waiting for an opportune moment so he could quickly snatch whatever he could carry and run away. I wondered if he ran toward the zoo.
I remember his face to this day.
joeparadox at 2:30 p.m.