it has been over twenty years, but the park still looks exactly as i remembered it - tall twisting trees, the slide shaped like a dragon, a pair of see-saws.
i returned to my favorite swing, remembering the countless hours i spent there as a child, when suddenly i noticed the park was completely empty, as if this pivotal place of my childhood had become a ghost town.
my swing creaked loudly in protest as i lowered myself onto it's cracked plastic seat.
the longer i stayed, the more i started to realize the curls of rust and fading paint that surrounded me and it filled me with a worry that people had forgotten about this park, that they had better things to do than play away the hours.
and as i sat there, staring at the [sand] beneath my feet, trying to remember why i came back in the first place, i realized that i was the ghost.