The social ladder

            “Okay Mackenzie, here you go. One, two, three, “, Mackenzie’s mother stated (nameless as I still do not know her name) placed her hands on Mackenzie’s back, and gave her a slight push.”Wee,” Mackenzie exclaimed, as she started her upward flight. Other children were present too. The toddlers waddled around, as the woodchips crunched underneath them.  They maintained a jubilant mood as they had recently discovered how to wander freely, without their guardians constantly picking them up and ending their long crawling journey. The two neighbor boys, ages five and six respectively, were slipping down the tube apparatus. They also cried, “Weeee!”.  As they emerged from the green tube, the telescope, upon the deck of the “pirate’s ship”, captivated the attention of Katie and her younger sister (who also is nameless as I have not learned her name in these eleven years). The blue tube was swirling around, as Katie and her nameless sister attempted to search the green grasses for the nearest piece of land. All the kids looked so happy. All of them had found their place in the neighborhood kid’s hierarchy. Meanwhile their mothers huddled around their steaming cups of high-noon tea (I never did understand this concept as we were living in Minnesota, not England). Their conversation drifted from work, to fashion, to families, to their children. While everyone appeared to be deeply interested in the conversation, one of the mothers looked up and saw my mother gardening. “Hey Dee-pee-ka! Why don’t you join us?,” she called to my mother.

                My mother turned away from her gardening work to see who had called. As their friendly faces came into view, she slowly took off her yard gloves and placed them aside. “Sure. Coming, “she called back. My mommy paused to turn back at me once and ask me if I wanted to go play with the six imaginative children. I had no idea where my place in the social hierarchy was. And I did not intend to search the playground for it and risk the possibility of being embarrassment, if I found out that it was non-existent. Thus, “NO,” was the automatic response she received. As she made her way towards the high-noon- Minnesotan tea, I gazed at the children, and wondered if I had missed my opportunity to assimilate into those regular childhood affairs. My contemplative trance was quickly halted, as I thought Nahh.

                Throughout my childhood, my refusal to interact with the other neighborhood children continued. Of course, I wanted to find my place in the neighborhood kid’s clan. Of course, I wanted to fit in. Of course, I would rather have miraculous adventures with my companions rather than silently watch them from afar (Who doesn’t want to explore the green grasses for the nearest piece of land. Duhh!). But, how could I? What if they did not like me? What if I realized my non-existent position on the social ladder? How would I face that humiliation?

                Eleven years later, with improved self-esteem and better social skills, I regret my actions. Why didn’t I say YES to my mom? What if I had approached them? What if we became great friends? I still do not know many of my fellow peers that live in my neighborhood. They have their own friends and I have mine. But times like these make me realize the need for a time machine.