“You’re it!”

“Try and catch me!”

“Race you to the top!”

There are children… everywhere. They’re on me, they’re under me, they’re playing hide and seek. They’re yelling and jumping and spinning and climbing all over me. Their small shoes squeakily stomp up my steps. They shriek happily as they slip down my slide. They giggle to their parents, “Push me, push me higher, higher!” as they try to touch the clouds. And I love every moment.

Well, I used to. Things are quiet now. Now, I’m alone. The only thing that makes a sound is the occasional creak from the swings, gently swaying in the breeze. Now and then I’ll hear a child's laughter, but it’s always in the distance and not here, with me. When will the children come back? I want to tell them I miss their stomps, their shrieks, their giggles, that I don’t have a purpose without them… but they are silent. And so am I.