Michael thought he was ready for his 30^th high school reunion. He’d missed his tenth because he had just started a new job out of town. He missed his 20^th because he was going through a bad divorce and just didn’t want to have to explain it to every one of his former classmates who would inevitably ask, “So, how’s your wife?”

But as his 30^th approached he felt all the stars were lining up – long-time job is going well, new marriage is going great… Perfect time to revisit his youth. Coming in from out of town, he booked an Airbnb in the neighborhood he grew up in and went to the restaurant where the reunion was held… and left early.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. Turns out, the people who went to the reunions were all the people he never hung out with. And even then, they were in their same isolated groups. None of his people from high school showed and he ended up having a few whiskey sours at the restaurant’s bar by himself and then took an Uber back to his Airbnb.

When he got out of the Uber, he started up the walkway to the little cottage surrounded by innumerable McMansions and stopped. His elementary school was just around the block. He wasn’t sure if it was the disappointing reunion, returning home, or the whiskey sours, but he decided to walk over to his elementary school.

When he arrived at the dark campus he was greeted with another disappointment – the place had been completely remodeled and from the front only the sign announcing “Hollyhock Elementary” was the same as when he’d gone there so many years ago. But he ventured into the dark hallways out to the playground. Of course, the enormous wooden jungle gym he remembered had been replaced by a brightly colored plastic play structure that didn’t look like a kid could so much as scrape a knee on it.

But next to the ultra-safe playground, somehow the old swing set still sat on the edge of the yard, long chains rustling invitingly in the light breeze.

Michael smiled as he stepped into the sand that ringed the swings and sat on the thin black rubber arc of a seat. His feet firmly on the ground, he rocked back and forth and thought back to when he and his friend, Dave, would see who was brave enough to jump off the swing at the highest point and soar farthest to land in the sand. Much older and more responsible, Michael snickered at how fearless kids could be. Then he drew in a deep breath because he hadn’t thought about Dave for a long time. His playground friend never made it beyond fifth grade, cut down by an errant driver that ran a stop sign as Dave was riding his BMX home from school, this school.

From behind him, in the dark of the trees that bordered the school grounds, Michael heard children’s laughter echo his own.

He froze at the sound.

He waited stock still, listening for the laughter again, his body tensed between frozen terror and reckless flight. He stayed perfectly still listening to just the night wind in the pepper trees so long that he wondered if he had hallucinated the sound.

Slowly he started to relax – it had to have been the alcohol and the memories of this place. That’s all. Or some animal making a noise that sounded like children’s laughter. He was being ridiculous.

He even pushed off the ground and let the swing arc him back and forth lazily in the darkness. As he swung he stared at the gleaming new buildings that replaced the 1950’s structure he remembered. He let his mind’s eye remember back to what this looked like when he was a kid swinging at recess. He swung higher now – maybe not as recklessly high as he did when he was young and invulnerable, but still high enough to get a little thrill again. And then as the arc hit its zenith, he pushed off of the swing, and felt gravity pull him down to the sand.

It hurt more than he remembered, but he didn’t think he bruised anything. As he knelt on his knees in the sand, he had to admit it was still fun.

“Welcome home, Michael,” Dave’s voice spoke right next to his ear.