Kids

I used to count the alternate white and black as I crossed the road when I was young. And now as I step on the last I'm thinking this will also be the last time I'll ever cross this road. The void deck with the stone benches. Six round seats. I remember how I used to sit there and wait while observing in silence. Right behind is a choice between a slope and a small flight of stairs. I always chose the latter. Face the clinic that has undergone renovation so many times. And out to the carpark because the badminton court site has been fenced with barricades. Lift upgrading, the signage reads. I recall us hauling the rackets and net down the stairs. I was always the lazy one who stood by and watched them tie the net to the poles. She would look at us from the window while we waved frantically and pretended like we were too carried away with the game. When she signalled that she'd be going to the kitchen to prepare dinner we'd wink at each other, then fish out the coins in our tiny pockets and race to the vending machine a block away. We had to be quick, because she didn't allow if she knew. This is how we grew up.