Uncut

I still remember the first time I was allowed out alone (without the supervision of my parents, that is). It must have been when I was in Year 4, I think. About 7 years ago, while our house was still being built and we were renting. A friend came over and, at the time, we were living half a block away from a park. After braiding parts of our hair and putting colourful beads in with one of those strange hair braiding/beading machines that every girl in school owned and thought was the next big thing after barbies, furbies, tazos, and tamagotchis, I pleaded with my parents to let us go to the park without them coming and, fairly leniently, they said yes. Overcome by a sense of independence, maturity and emancipation, we skipped the whole 2 minutes to the park and enjoyed about 15 minutes alone until my sister came walking towards us after being sent to check on us.

I'm not sure what the moral of the story is. I guess it's just one of the many stories that doesn't have a moral. One of the many stories that has disjointed sentences and abrupt endings. Oh well. I'm tired (after working 10 hours today) and not bothered to fix it up. I just wanted to get this down because I suddenly remembered it today, after driving past the park (which, mind you, I drive past every day almost). So I will leave this memory raw for the moment, and perhaps forever - some things are better left scrappy rather than over analysed.