Of Time Spent in Silent Play

When Child was in grade school, on the playground mostly alone. But usually smiling. Walking a mobius between two pine trees with interlocking roots, brushing fingertips along the bark of each with the nearest hand. Chatting with Dream Friend in audio silence, learning how to gently caress the wood of the bark, making it sing it's joy into the hand, a vibration once felt always remembered. And happily shared.

The trees knew when Child was upset, and did not mind when the roughness wasn't containable- it was barely a thing compared to the gouging of feline claws.