On the second day of Eid we went to our old neigbourhood and visited some relatives and old neighbours. While we were walking in one of those familiar streets, I didn't know that I would come across the very same swing ride my sister and I used to enjoy as little kids. A wave of nostalgia swept over us when we saw it which made my sister burst out with childhood memories instantly. The man was the very same man who used to turn the handle of the ride's carriage while we were whirling around. We used to beg him, we remembered, to turn it faster and faster because the faster he turned it the faster we whirled. The man then would fold and carry the swing ride home after it got dark.
My sister and I told the man that we wanted to give it a try but of course this time it was Milou and her cousins' turn to enjoy it. While they were doing so, we had a short chat with the man and learned that he has been doing this job for the last 25 years struggling to make a living. Interestingly, he survived despite all the malls around with playgrounds that offer futuristic mixtures of attractions for children.
The man, then, folded the ride's carriage and headed for other streets leaving my sister and me with pleasure and sadness that he caused by reminding us of something from the past and making us wish we could experience it again.
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