Me and Matt were once miniatures in this playground. Now we're giants. It’s not

changed much, the bark still pinches, the three structures still stand – made of red corrugated

iron roofs, wood, ramps, ladders, steps and slides. When we would play, every day it

transformed: ruins of a city, a spacecraft, a castle, a house, a ship. Now it’s just a playground.

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“We used to sail across the seven seas on this”

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“What?” Matt looks up and finishes a cig roll. He doesn’t usually smoke, and it looks like a

bent palm tree. We know we are alone, but we both look around to see if a teacher is here.

“We used to sail this; I think we called our ship the Sarah-Jade. We would argue over who was

the captain and who was the first mate”

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“Don’t remember” Matt coughs.

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I crack a beer and hand the six pack over. He declines.

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There is not much sound around our old school–three classrooms line together with a small

library and office-come-staffroom tagged on. The fields, the buildings and playground are all

boxed in by rows of macrocarpa, flax bushes and a patch of feijoa trees. It’s a rural school but

to me it still feels like the centre of the world.

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“I remember Miss Robbie” Matt Says.

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“Yeah, she didn’t like you. She smashed that window once to try and get your attention”

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“Yeah, she cut her finger.”

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We remember the cut and we remember the scar that grew on Miss Robbie’s finger. Curved

like a smile; you could see it when she pointed right at you and yelled. The whole two years

she taught at the school, she got closer and closer. One day I thought she would pop one of our

eyes right out with one of those long red nails.

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“You know, there is still time, you could run away, hop on White mask and ride off into the

sunset” I say.

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“Mate, White Mask is dead, and she was a cow anyway”

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“Well, if you change your mind, Kakaw and I’ll either break you out tonight or crash the

wedding tomorrow”

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“I’ll be fine. It feels right”

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He was engaged that long to her that I really thought it wouldn’t happen. Thought we would

have time for one last adventure, but It had been a year since I last saw him.

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“Sure you don’t want one of these?”

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I crack another can.

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“Nah, mate. It’s getting dark. I’ll head back. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

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“All good. Remember, kakaw if you need me”

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Matt leaves. I sit still on the ramp with my hands on the wood; close my eyes and breath deep.

In and out. In and out. From my spot everything stretches out. I don’t need to open my eyes to

see. Next to the school is the road, and the road stretches grey-black down into the valley and

in the middle of valley is a great river that divides every thing down the middle and all around

the green hills remain massive; it all remains mine; mine forever.