This piece reflects a positive childhood memory and is not related to trauma or roleplay.
Running Through the Water
Not every memory from that time was heavy.
Some were simple and good.
Some were full of light.
I remember one of those days—walking outside, going inside the tobacco fields, with the dirt road cutting through and the big crop irrigation system spinning slow and steady across the way.
There was so much space.
So much freedom.
We used to run through the tobacco field, my sister and I, playing hide and seek between the rows or around the house, and it was one of our hiding spots.
Sometimes I played by myself just for the fun of it—running, hiding, feeling the sun on my face.
And then one day, Aunt Rebecca surprised us.
I don’t remember what led up to it.
Maybe the heat. Maybe the mood.
But I remember her saying,
“Go put on your bathing suits—you can go play in the field with the sprinkler system.”
We looked at her like she had given us gold.
As fast as we could, my sister and I ran inside, threw on our bathing suits, and sprinted back out to the fields.
The sprinkler system had a pattern.
It didn’t spray all the time—it turned on at different time periods during the day.
When we got out there, the water was not on yet, and I hated waiting.
But the excitement was too good to sit still. Rebecca said it turns on at any minute.
We climbed on and off the big tires, watching, waiting.
Then—whoosh.
The water burst to life.
It was cold at first—shocking, loud, almost too much.
But then it felt amazing in the hot weather.
We played hard that day.
Running up and down the long line of water.
Staying underneath the spray until we were soaked.
Climbing what we could.
Laughing and running until our sides hurt or too tired.
I even remember standing on one of the big tires and riding it slowly as the sprinkler moved across the field.
I don’t know how long we were out there.
But I didn’t want it to end.
“This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.”
— Psalm 118:24
Eventually, Aunt Rebecca called us back in.
“It’s getting late,” she said. “Time to listen.”
We didn't want to...but we did.
We went inside.
Showered.
Did what we had to do.
And afterward… I stepped outside for a moment.
Not to run.
Not to play.
Just to watch.
From a distance, I stood still and watched the crop irrigation system water the land.
It turned slowly, calmly—mist rising from the field.
The land was being fed.
The sun was low.
And for a rare moment, everything felt still.
That day didn’t change my life.
But it reminded me I had one.
One with laughter.
One with light.
One where I got to be a kid, even if just for a while.
I got to enjoy a simple moment.
“He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside still waters, He restores my soul.”
—Psalm 23:2–3