Sword vs. Sun: A Recess Tragedy
By: Natalya Santiago
Where. Are. My. Sunglasses!!
I’ve had just about enough of this. This sun is crazy and I don’t understand it.
At first I thought it was a friend, always there, I didn’t mind. Now I just feel like I'm being followed, it’s weird. I ask my mom, "why does the sun follow us all the time?” She only laughs, but I’m serious, why is it always there? I’m running in the park and there goes the sun. I watch it follow me as I try to get away, but somehow it never goes away. I can never out-run it or chase it either. Not even with my sword can I slice it in half. It’s just always there – so strange. Relief rushes over me when I go to school. I’m shielded from its beams for hours. But when I go back outside there it is again … waiting.
All I want to do is go on the slide, play on the swings, and climb. But every time I touch the playground it’s sizzling hot. Why can’t the sun come out other times?! My teachers say the sun is good, sunshine means we can play outside. But how can we play when each time I try, the sun seems to be out on a mission specifically to burn me alive? It’s unwelcome, I’ve told it so. I've shown it so too. I’ve worn sunglasses and hats for weeks, and yet, every morning, it creeps through the trees, staring, watching. It just makes me sweaty and my hair all hot. I hate the sun and I wish it’d stop.
One day though, I got out of bed. Sword by my nightstand ready and steady for me to try slicing it again. But as I got up, today felt different – colder and dark. The sun didn’t poke through the trees or squeeze through my window. It was gone. I was alone. I couldn’t believe it and ran outside, met with grey skies and fluffy clouds. I feel a droplet fall on my nose. The sun finally listened. It’s finally gone away. Waltzing through the grass – a little squishy, a little sloshy – but I didn’t pay it much mind. It was as if I could dance, I could finally go a day without the horrible sun in the way. No need for my sword, no need for a hat or sunglasses at that. I went to school with a wide grin. I’d finally be able to slide, play on the swings, and climb. No burning or sizzling or being cooked alive.
My pep screeched to a halt as my teachers announced: “today we’ll have indoor recess.” I heard an unusual sound. Pitter pattering on the window – it was new and different – my teachers said it was raining so the playground was dripping wet. I just sat at my desk in awe, a new foe! I thought I had no need for my sword but this new wetness on my arms is alarming. This is worse than when it was scorching!
“Yep, rain all week,” my mother says as it dawns on me. When it’s wet and rainy and cold, you can’t play outside on the swings. Suddenly – and I never thought I would – but maybe I miss the sun? Maybe I misunderstood?
I pull out my raincoat, my umbrella, my sword. Placing my sword on the concrete, I call out to the sky as the rain pours. Maybe if I call it, maybe if I apologize, maybe then the sun might return. I’m sorry! I’d much rather feel warm.