She sat on the swing, the thin metal chains holding it under her small figure. She looked across the playground and saw him coming. He had his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes, as always. She smiled.
He was eight and walked with the unhurried, carefree steps youth allows. He wore a striped shirt and dusty, well-worn jeans. His sneakers were old, but he thought they finally fit perfectly around his small feet.
Raising his head, he saw her on the swing watching him. He walked faster. He had his hands thrust in his pockets and as he approached, he felt for the marble they shared in his right pocket. As he stopped before her, he wondered what she was thinking.
"Hi," he said, smiling.
"Hi."
"Wanna ride?" he asked, nodding toward the swing.
"Of course."
He walked behind her and she raised her hands and grasped the metal chains which held the swing. He pushed softly and she held the chains tight just in case.
"What did you do today?" she asked as she let the breeze from the swinging movement play across her face.
"I had a wonderful day," he responded, pushing her again. "On the way to school I saw this really big anthill. There was a tiny hole on top and ants were running around all over. Some of them carried small pieces of bread, others carried sand. They would go into the small hole and into the hill. I guess they were still building on the inside . . ."
"That's neat," she said, crossing her legs at the ankles. Her legs hung down from the swing and her hands still grasped the metal chains firmly.
"It was," he returned. He thought of the anthill and decided he would be an architect one day and build. Just like the ants. Instead of sand he would use metal and granite. And glass. He would build the most wonderful buildings . . .
"What about you?" he asked, watching his friend on the swing.
"I had a wonderful day too," she answered, leaning back. She then pushed her body forward in order to gain momentum. "On my way to school I looked up at the sky and saw the most beautiful colors. The sun was up and there were small, rosy clouds around it. All of the colors made it look like a painting."
She thought of that early-morning sky, filled with the wonder only a child can truly experience, and decided then and there she would be a painter. If she could capture the colors of a beautiful morning, she thought, it would truly be wonderful.
"And then in class I read my poem," she continued, suddenly remembering how the morning merged into something else. "Remember I told you about it? The one called 'The Happiest Girl In The World'?"
"Sure," he answered. "I remember. I liked it."
"Me too." She didn't say anything for a few moments, then continued. "Well, I read it today in front of the whole class. The girl in the poem was happy because she only dreamed of being creative. She only wanted to use her heart, and of course her mind too. But she only wanted to be happy." She paused for a moment, thinking and becoming suddenly withdrawn.
"What happened?" he asked, sensing her mood.
"When I finished reading, Jane - the one with the hair you think looks like fire - well, she said it was no good and it would never be seen on television."
She swung slower and slower until she stopped. "The whole class laughed."
He walked over and hugged her, then handed her the marble he had in his pocket. "Are you okay?"
"Now I am," she answered, looking at the marble the two of them traded back and forth whenever one or the other needed a reminder of who they were. The two of them started out of the park and down the street to their houses.
"What did she mean?" the boy asked as they walked. "What's television?"
"I don't know," she answered, pocketing the marble.
"I don't either."
The two walked side by side in silence. The girl thought of her poem and how she would be able to build on her dreams one day. The boy thought of ants and rocks and buildings and didn't know the meaning of anything which would prevent him from doing what he dreamed.
They walked on in silence on the sidewalk. He made sure neither of them stepped in the small cracks in the cement. As they walked, they looked at each other every now and then, and whenever their eyes met they smiled. After awhile, she put her hand in his.
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