Losing Grip

Loosing grip

Your fingers are grasped tightly curled around the cold metal of the monkey bars. You let one hand slip and swing it ‘round to the next bar. You are caught in the middle your little arms weakening from making it this far. You can see your friends on the platform on the other side, laughing and encouraging you to go on. For a brief moment all you want to do is let go, but you think about the drop. Your fingers start slipping; glancing down you can see the little pebbles below. Will you land on your feet? What if you get your new shoes dirty? Maybe scrape up your hands a bit. Your palms begin to burn and the bell rings to signify the end of lunch. You know it’s now or never. Prying your little hands off of the next bar you carry on, swinging each arm to the next bar. Dropping onto the platform, you turn triumphantly and look up at the bars. You made it.