kling behind them.
Sunshine filled the playground. The snow had mostly melted, leaving random puddles of cold wet surprises at the bottom of the slides and in soggy patches of the fields. The children all wore their winter coats and mashed hats onto their heads. Random gloves lay scattered like fallen soldiers near the door, casualties of not being put on fast enough.
Nathan ran out to the playground and the children quickly called him into a game of Groundies. Six children tried to explain the rules to him, all of them jumping around from rule to rule without rhyme or reason.
“Help?” Nathan asked as Holly came over.
“It’s a combo of Marco Polo and tag. The ‘it’ person has to have their eyes closed while they are on the playground equipment. You can open your eyes on the ground,” Holly explained.
Nathan looked at the slide and plastic bridge. “Wouldn’t it be safer to have your eyes open on the equipment and closed on the ground?”
“Yes, but way less fun,” Holly agreed. “If the not-it players touch the ground, the it player can call out ‘Groundies” and if the not-it player is still on the ground, they become it.”
Nathan looked over at the kids. “I’m guessing I’m it.”
All the kids’ heads nodded in unison.
Nathan jumped up the ladder and screwed his eyes shut. “Okay. I’m coming for you!”
The kids shrieked with delight and scattered across the play-structure. Nathan played like he was seven years old, except that he was happy to be it and chase the kids around.
The kids adored him. She knew that several of them knew who he was, yet they welcomed him. They didn't ask him about their parent's jobs. They just accepted him since he brought pizza.
Holly watched with a smile on her face. Nathan was good with the kids. They loved playing with him. He seemed to love playing in return. Over the course of the recess, she watched him lose the stress around his eyes. He laughed. He ran.
And she realized she was in love.
Chapter 30
Nathan
Nathan hadn’t had a workout like that in months. When the whistle finally blew signifying the end of their time outside, he was drenched in sweat and his legs were shaking.
The kids seemed unfazed.
“How do they have so much energy?” Nathan asked Holly as they followed the classroom back inside.
“They weren’t picking each other up and swinging them in circles,” Holly reminded him. She smiled when she said it, her voice warm and soft.
“Okay, friends. Put your coats away and we’ll head to art class.” The kids continued shouting and talking, but they did as she asked, hanging up their coats on the pegs along the far side of the classroom.
Once the coats were put away, they formed a rough semblance of a line.
“I’m just going to take them to art class,” Holly told him. “It’ll only take a minute.”
“I’ll wait here. I don’t have to be back just yet.”
A smile filled her face and then she darted around, making sure that the kids were ready. As soon as the door opened, the kids became quiet as they walked through the halls.
Ms. Jones runs a tight ship, Nathan thought to himself. The kids obviously loved her. To be honest, he loved her too. She had the ability to make someone feel like they were special and mattered in the world. It was a gift.
Nathan looked around the small classroom. There were about thirty small desks with tiny chairs for the tiny people to sit and learn. Holly had a regular sized government issued desk in the corner. It was stacked high with papers and projects and the flowers he’d gotten her.
The walls were brick, but Holly had made them warm and inviting. She had posters up with book covers and funny math jokes. Lining the room were handmade snowflakes in all different shapes and designs.
Nathan realized there were words written on each snowflake. He went over and read one.
I wish that I didn’t have to move. I wish that Dad’s didn’t have to go to California.