Junkyard 2 week one

In a park near Dallas, there's a boy no older than eight wearing a neon green under armour shirt with a pair of orange shorts standing behind what could only be his brother, in a blue nike shirt and a pair of red shorts, holding a football as big as his head. Two Labradors barrel across the street while an older woman runs behind, trying to catch them, hollering their names as though they would listen. Two younger boys climb on a nearby swing-set, pushing and shoving to reach the top. I watch as one tumbles down the slide backward, landing on the wood chips wrong, clutching a sob for the split second it takes for the other boy to fall down the slide right after him, crashing just as hard. It takes the second descent to make the first laugh instead of cry and a nearby woman, their mother, breathes and instantaneous sigh of what I make to be relief. Behind me, the dogs have made their way around to the back of the park, barking incessantly until the gate opens and they can tear up some child's leftover jacket on the basketball court.