Things Fall Apart by Kaitlyn Knudson
It’s easy for me to forget I’m a part of this earth when I can’t see it or feel it. Back and forth, back and forth, I remind my legs, push out, push in, push out. I wince at the effort they are making; boy, are they working hard to keep my tiny body in rhythm. Stop thinking of the pain, I tell my brain. Swoosh, my feet brush over sand and some of it crunches in my mouth. I’m still too low to the ground. My skirt puffs out like a parachute but I’m helpless to pull it down; my hands are busy gripping the cold metal chains attached to my seat. Strands of hair tickle my face, sunlight has tangled itself inside of my hair now and won’t come out, and the top of my head has become a hotplate within seconds. But I won’t let the heat get to me. The red playground is becoming closer and farther, then much closer and much farther. Voices are being muffled by the wind now. I catch pieces of different conversations each time my body lunges forward. I’m high enough in the air now to stop pushing my legs so hard, to just let go. I darken my world by shutting my eyes and my body’s motion of back and forth, back and forth becomes instantly scarier. Now there is nothing but something that looks like a pitch-black chalkboard in front of me. I can draw my own scene onto this chalkboard; I can look at whatever I choose. I choose to remember what happened earlier that morning, because it’s hard for me to forget. Mrs. Sale’s classroom comes to life. There’s my math test on my desk in front of me, decorated with the debris of my eraser; I am struggling to find the correct answer. Somebody has turned on the TV right in the middle of our test, and I’m looking up at it as the girl in the seat next to me starts to shake, and covers her eyes with her palms. She’s falling apart like those two buildings on the screen that everyone is staring at. I see them show the gray buildings before they start to crumble all over again, at one point the tallest buildings in the world, I hear the announcer say with a shaken voice. I look away, hoping to avoid it all, but I can’t avoid it. Because it’s everywhere around me, on every one of my friend’s faces, on Mrs. Sale’s face; they all wear the same pair of haunted eyes. Just like the pair of haunted eyes that was on Mommy’s face today. And on Daddy’s face. And maybe on my face, too.
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