Flashlight Playground
This
morning Dad made me a promise.
“Baby Matt is sick, Jordie,” Dad said. “Mama stayed up with him most of the night. She might not be able to take you to the park today. But when I get home from work, we'll visit the playground. Just the two of us. I promise.”
All day I helped Mama. All day I waited for Dad.
But Dad didn't come home for dinner. He didn't come home when the streetlights blinked on outside either.
When Dad finally opened our front door, it was almost pajama time.
Dad tucked me into his lap. He looked tired and a little sad. “Promises are important, Jordie. I haven't forgotten mine. But I had to work late. And look—it's getting dark.”
I tried hard not to cry. Then I jumped off Dad's lap. I ran into the kitchen and brought back something.
“OK?” I asked.
Dad took the something and switched it on. Light danced across the living room ceiling. “Let's go!” he said.
Dad carried the flashlight as we walked through our neighborhood. The moon glowed in the sky. Two bright cat eyes blinked from the shadows.
Maybe I won't like the playground at night, I thought suddenly. I was glad I had Dad's hand to hold.
We passed dark houses and houses with TV screens glowing inside. A white-haired lady and man sat together on one bright porch.
I gulped the air. “Night air tastes different,” I said.
“I agree,” said Dad.
The night playground was different, too. No one yelled or laughed or ran around. No one hung from the monkey bars. As we walked closer, I heard the swing chains creak in the wind. I noticed the SCUFFLE, SCUFFLE, SCUFFLE sound of sand beneath my shoes.
“Look, Jordie,” Dad called. He held the flashlight beneath the faces of the rocking animals. The shadows made the chicken look funny. The frog looked scary!
“The monster frog that ate the world!” I said, laughing.
I followed
Dad to the lighthouse slide. Dad pointed the flashlight
inside. Light poured out the windows.
“That's how a real lighthouse looks,” said Dad. “The bright beam at the top guides ships.”
“Let me try,” I said. CLICK-A-CLICK-A-CLICK. I switched the light off and on, off and on. “I'm telling the ships that everything is OK,” I explained.
Next I ran to the swings. The swing chains felt cool inside my fingers. Dad put the flashlight in the sand, aimed straight at me.
I swung
forward, and light flew up my ankles and knees and over
my whole body. Then I moved in darkness until I shot backward
into the light again.
“We'd better get going now,” Dad called softly.
I dragged my feet in the sand to slow down. When I stopped, the flashlight shone on me like a spotlight.
Dad bent down and picked up the flashlight and dusted it off. He reached for my hand.
“Thanks, Jordie,” he said.
“Thanks?” I said.
“Yes, you helped me keep my promise. And promises are important.”
Dad and I followed the circle of light down the sidewalk and all the way home.
