Parks

Wednesday, August 16th, 2017

Have we discussed parks? I don’t think so. If you are or have ever been a child, parks, in some way shape form or fashion, have probably held a high place in your mind as one of the single greatest destinations of all time. The good ones have long monkey bars, tall slides, and enough swings to act out the motion of cilia as they move the cell or other items around in their microscopic world… but I detract. Too many of the more modern ones have only miniature everything, as if to dissuade older people from using it. They aren’t usually that great, unless you happen upon one of those good ones mentioned earlier. If you are ever so fortunate to find one of those old-style parks with real merry-go-rounds, super high swings, and those bar thingys that you climb on that nobody knows what they’re called, you’ll truly wish you had found it sooner. These old types are even amazing when you’re twenty years old, anonymous sources confirm. And then, there are those boring types of parks. You know what I’m talking about. It’s just a big empty lot of dry dirt, perhaps some patchy grass if you’re lucky, and maybe even a picnic table out there in the hot sun. The only redeemable quality to these sorts of parks is they provides an open space for larger group games, such as frisbee, various types of tag, and so forth. Of course, if you go with only four or five people, there’s not much to do and you may as well head home.

This park was not like any of these. It was almost a hybrid between the modern park and the boring park; except not quite. There was indeed the token playground area with miniature equipment, and the two swings they had were on the small side, but they did have a sand volleyball court. There were plenty of picnic tables and park benches dotted the path that divided the park into two large triangles. A decent sized area was cleared out and flat for frisbee and games like that, while lush grass covered everything that wasn’t concrete. Tall oaks spread their leafy boughs over most of the area, providing plenty of shade under their wings, but there was still an ample supply of sunny spots for those who so desired. It is there that we find them, one with his back leaned against a tree as the sun pokes through and showers down in its radiant light, the other lying on her back gazing up at the puffy clouds as they sail by. He was intently reading a book and holding it with one hand, while the other lay across her stomach and occasionally scratched her ears. Whenever another dog walked by she’d prick her ears up attentively, but then lay back down once it was gone, content to just sit there and be petted.

I never thought I’d be that boring person who goes to a park to read, but it was just that I found myself doing. My nine-year-old self would balk and say that couldn’t possibly be himself, yet here I was. What had happened? Not a lot actually, I just had some reading to do, and thought I may as well spend my time doing it at the park with my dog than inside all alone. Parks, it seem, have even more uses now.