“That’s where I raised my kids,” he said, pointing at the five-story construction project. Max was always saying things like that. Strange things, inexplicable things. Haunting things. Like the time he pointed to the underside of his toy airplane and explained where the bombs went, and how the compartment where the man sat was very, very small.
I cleared my throat and smiled at him in the rearview: my bright-eyed boy in the safety seat, his plump legs jutting out, his bright sneakers bouncing to the bumps in the road.
“Is that so?” I asked.
“Oh yes. Will Daisy Towne have a swing set?”
“Yes they do, honey. They’ve got swing sets, and slides and maybe even a seesaw.”
“What’s a seesaw?”
I realized he’d probably never seen one. The park by our flat didn’t have one, so I explained what it was.
“Oh I remember those,” he said, nodding.
—
150 words.
Crazy, right? Okay, an explanation:
As I strolled down the street, in that surging, lurching way that one travels in streetview–where destinations never seem to get any closer until suddenly they’re gone–I had the weirdest moment. The tidy redstone church I was heading for turned covered in scaffolding, and then it was gone and I wound up in front of this, what you see above. There I was, tripping and skipping through space and time and unable to find my way back. And then for no reason, I remembered the strange things my son used say when he was little, and then this story happened.
I think it has something to do with the fact I devoured a season of Legion last week.
I’m sure I missed a fabulous opportunity to bone up on New Zealand but I just wasn’t feeling it today. So, instead I offer the above story, the spirit of complete non-sequitor, proving that inspiration can be whatever you want to do it it.
This has been an edition of What Pegman Saw. To read more stories inspired by the prompt or to submit your own, click here.
k. Rawson 
Fantastic story. Ancestral memory, or reincarnation? Maybe both.
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Watching Legion gave me all sorts of interesting story ideas.
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The little boy has an old soul.
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It seems so! Thanks for reading.
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I like the idea of this – otherworldly almost. No apologies.
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No apologies allowed on your end is what I meant in response to your statement ~ I’m sure I missed a fabulous opportunity to bone up on New Zealand but I just wasn’t feeling it today. So, instead I offer the above story,
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Dear Karen,
A friend and I have had many conversations about old souls. I’m not completely sure where I sit on the subject. Nonetheless, I loved where you went with your story. Well written, as always.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thanks Rochelle. It’s one of those things I wonder about for sure. Thanks for reading.
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Love this. This could explode into so many stories, but so engrossing as it is.
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Thanks Russell, delighted you liked it 🙂
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