Writing prompt for 1/28

this is from a different writing prompt site.  just trying it out.

Ode to a playground: A place from your past or childhood, one that you’re fond of, is destroyed. Write it a memorial.

Let me think of a place from my childhood...  well, there once was a sort of playground on the courts near where the Waipahu Recreation Center is today.  I recall my grandmother leaving me there every now and then.  There really wasn't much there, honestly.  There was this tall "lookout" thing, which would NEVER be allowed nowadays for liability reasons.  I suppose you could climb up it (there were no ladders, or anything), and sit or lie at the top beneath shade...  But the thing that I really remember about it was the sound.  There were these holes in the metal pipes that formed its four support pillars, and whenever the wind blew, there would be this eerie whistling sound...

So I suppose there was that place...  some other images I recall from my childhood, all in passing, were this church.  I've seen it recently, so I know it still exists.  It was a Christian church of some kind, with a lot of open glass windows...  It looked like it came from the 50s, or at least my conception of the 50s...  beach boys music.  Bright blue skies.  The window of a Woolworth's store.  A bar called "Sloop John B."  All of these things in that day glow reality, with faded pages...  With people who all seemed blonde and tanned with tousled hair and eyes somewhat squinty from the sun.  All with broad smiles on their faces...

In many ways, that reality is gone, though whether it is because I have grown up, or because those places are physically gone, I'm not so sure.  Of course, my grandmother's house in Ewa Beach is still around, but I have no access to it; haven't had access to it in many years.  Right now, it is closed up (fenced), and my Uncle Masao who runs the place is either never home or is inaccessible.  Regarding that place, which, though not a playground, served as the background for most of my childhood memories...  I miss it dearly.  I remember those hot, quiet rooms.  The refrigerator that was always stocked with drinks for me.  I remember the Japanese radio station always blaring, with the kitchen windows open, with plastic bags suspended from the glass jealousies (to dry them); the flies buzzing, my grandma always standing at the cutting board, cutting something.  My grandmother always had time for me.  Whenever I had something on my mind, or she had some wisdom to impart to me... she would sit me down, hand patting my knee to hold my attention.  And, no matter what, I think I would always feel better about life...

I also remember the yard.  The uneven paving stones, the endless potted plants.

The bathroom, with the old sink, everything a kind of cyan blue.

The mirror at the end of the hall...

The room that was intended for the dog (Coco) and the matting on the floor to catch his piss.

Just some fleeting memories of a place that is now gone.