It
was yellow – our Tweenies tent. The one Danielle and I would drag through her corridor
and into her square back garden lined with four battered brown fences, the chipped
wood splintering our skin. We rejected adult help, believing ourselves to be
grown up enough. We weren’t yet, but we would be, long before we’d have the
chance to realise. Our bare feet sank into the ever-damp English grass, pale
limbs bending in directions they shouldn’t have as we attempted to clamber in. Our
giggles kept the nylon fabric upright, never ripping despite the way we tumbled
into it. And when we were inside, toys slipping through our five-year old
hands, it no longer felt like a tent, but like a world. An effect mimicking
Mary Poppins’ handbag, the yellow of the walls blended in with the glimpses of
sunshine that managed to peer through the near-permanent British blanket of
clouds, and we breathed in the opportunities, the games that could be played,
the skits that could be acted, the dances that could be choreographed. The
universe tickled the tips of our fingers.
It’s
funny how a single memory can cling as tight as the princess dresses we
plastered onto our skinny bodies. I always did think she looked better – the
blonde waves of her hair stroking far down her back while my hazelnut pigtails spiralled
by my cheeks. We sat inside that Tweenies tent for hours on summer days, when
the wind was brisk enough to turn a foreigner’s lips blue. We were used to it
though, shoulders naked through conversations long enough to earn our
“chatterbox” nicknames. Maybe we acted older because we thought that would
speed up the process; allow us to use fancy words without getting bitter smirks
in return, let us mimic our mothers, sip their same coffee from real mugs rather
than the plastic picnic set we relied on. Little did we know the aging process
was already quick enough. Within a year or two, layers of dust were licking the
Tweenies tent buried beneath mounting boxes in my garage, our childhood becoming
a memory we’d smile about one day.
We
grew up in the one place that was designed to keep us young. I miss our
Tweenies tent.
