The air glows in the early evening sunlight, warming our faces as we make our way to the park with friends, the girls laughing and giggling and running ahead, the boys chasing after. I carry the supplies—sometimes taking the lead, sometimes falling behind—but always keeping the steady pace. The neighborhood feels paused, as if the entire world is sharing a long, deep sigh of contentment before carrying on.

The children dash the last few steps to the playground and scoot down the slides before I call to them, walking steadily past the swings and sand onto the baseball field covered in smiling faces. We find a spot on the warm grass. More friends arrive. And as everyone settles in, our blankets and chairs and picnic baskets become part of a huge and colorful patchwork quilt in the outfield, with children—dozens and dozens of children—running and playing and laughing among the mazes of narrow grassy pathways between us and around us, our conversations punctuated by giggles and happy yells and the scent of popcorn floating on the Summer breeze.

The giant movie screen hung on the outfield fence flaps lazily, like heavy cream pouring in slow motion. The children kick off their shoes and run to join the orbit of other young ones playing around us—some of them good friends, some of them friends to be, some of them never to be seen again. I lay down on our blanket, fold my hands behind my head and smile into the darkening blue sky above as a song by The Beatles plays on the sound system. A new day is beginning as the Sun rises towards the horizon.

Here comes the Sun.

Comments

1. dk on 2007-07-19 18:40:08 wrote: A very nice description of a moment in time. I wish I could write like that.

2. s’mee on 2007-07-22 09:24:18 wrote: this is lovely. feeling the warmth of the moment.