out of order

It had been under his bed for weeks. He’d pull it out often, tying and retying the knot. He liked the feel of the thick, waxy rope in his hands and was proud of how adept he’d become at tying it. Today he held it in his hands with open palms, as if it had a life of its own. He looked down at it so long and steadily his eyes blurred. He waited until he heard his mother leave for work and his father for the coffee shop. Then he stood up. He felt calm as he walked up the stairs from the basement. He opened the door into the kitchen and the brightness of the day blinded him for an instant, but he didn’t hesitate. There was no sentimental last look around. There was nothing. He walked out the side door of the house and down the steep rock steps to the back yard. He didn’t bother to take the more well-worn path through the woods down to the elementary school playground. Instead, he charged right through the trees, their leafless branches scratching at his face and jacket. As he approached the jungle gym, he looked around for the first time, noting the emptiness of the muddy field and the swamp beyond. He heard a single bird. It was sitting on a branch at the edge of the woods. It watched him, making him feel self-conscious -- that any living thing should see him. But then he took comfort in the bird’s company, as he tied the rope around the higher of the two bars. He made the knot quickly and automatically and was angry when he saw he’d done it wrong. It was hanging too low. He looked over at the bird who was quiet now, and carefully retied the rope. The knot and length were exactly right this time so he didn’t hesitate. He climbed up on the bar and perched in a squatting position on top of it. Then he drew the rope up towards himself, pulling the circle up and ducking his head into it. Sliding it down to his neck, he yanked it tight.. He looked up one more time, but the bird was gone. Disappointed, he somersaulted forward towards the ground until the rope firmly stopped his fall.