Until the Last One Falls

“Come on, faster! Run!” I shouted to the one chasing right behind me.

I can no longer recall the face of the person who I was following. Still, I do remember holding their hands tightly as we were chased with sticks, trash can lids, cardboard boxes on heads, paper masks, and old towels tied around necks.

We were the barefoot couple with sleeveless shirts, but we fought our rivals until we ran out of energy.

I’m sure that at least two of the four pursuers were girls, and the rest were boys. Each day, we imagined different adventures as part of the school’s “Going Home Club,” even though we never actually returned until dusk.

That empty lot behind our crumbling apartment building was our playground. Everyone else had already left; only we remained. The towers collapsed month by month until only ours was left standing.

One of the girls was an expert in gathering herbs. She always wore flower crowns on her head and dressed in clothes that her mother had made for her each week. We used to joke that they were sewn from old bedsheets or scraps from her mom’s work for clients. Now I understand that her little joy came from her mother’s hard work and sacrifice—who, despite not being able to afford new clothes, always managed to craft a quality wardrobe for her daughter.

Another one of the boys always seemed to be wearing something new, but he was so honest that he never hid the fact they weren’t. He called them “borrowed”—hand-me-downs from his cousins. And when he outgrew them again, he’d have to pass them on to the younger ones. And that will happen soon because he was too tall for our age.

There was another boy who was very careful with his clothes, constantly dusting himself off. Still, if a bug or animal caught his attention, he’d get muddy up to his nose if it meant catching a frog in the puddles or a beetle mid-flight. His passion, though, was for scaly animals. He never stopped talking about his pet and his favorite scar, earned when he found a garter snake in the garden of the neighboring building. How his mother cried while he stayed calm because, thanks to his books, he knew the bite wouldn’t hurt him and it would be easily treated.

The youngest of us couldn’t run much. She tired easily, so the tallest boy would carry her on his back when her body gave out. He’d run with her while she clung to his neck with her fragile arms. Her delicate porcelain-like skin bruised easily, and it was hard for her to keep up on her tiny feet. We would braid her lengthy hair, full of glittery accessories. At the same time, she looked at us with excitement in those big eyes framed by long lashes—usually soaked in tears because she couldn’t keep up with the older kids.

Our adventures often began after lunch at the Community Center since her parents worked there and wouldn’t let her go out to play as they said she was sick. So we would “rescue” the princess from the wicked king and queen who kept her locked in a toy-filled room, trying to make her into one of them.

We hunted tiny dragons, fed lions, gathered sweet berries, fought off rats that hid in the tallest trees after stealing our loot…

Life was more fun when we didn’t think about what waited for us at home. All we wanted was that time after lunch until the sun disappeared behind the roof of the castle in the lot behind our home.

On our last afternoon together, we had just enough to buy a bag of marshmallows and roast them over a small fire in a hole we dug ourselves—the day before our building was torn down.

We cried during our last adventure, talking about our empty rooms, where we would move, and how we would be alone… How we will miss each other.

But then one of us—my best friend, the one whose face I can no longer remember—climbed to the top of the rubble tower and shouted that the adventure doesn’t end until the last one falls. And that even if everyone else has fallen, we’ll meet again, bringing laughter back through the tears.

He was so small. I remember he was always smiling—though he was kinda toothless—and his messy hair was his crown as the best tree climber. I admired how he could cross beams like a parkour pro and how he kept us all together. He brought us joy, our leader, like a sun... My hero.

Funny how I remember that now, at this very moment… as I’m about to die.