Yesterday, I visited a park I’d not been to in over 10 years.
I didn’t mean to visit it, actually. I was supposed to be picking up the key to the civic center in that neighborhood for our party last night, but I was early. This park is fairly big, with lots of trees, a pond, and it backs right up to Clear Creek in Frwd. Since I grew up playing at that park, I decided to see what had changed over the last decade. So I grabbed my French book, thinking I could sit on the swings and study (yeah, right), and set off to explore.
And I did explore. I suppose traipsing through the “woods” in your best gray slacks and plain heels in a notoriously damp (read: muddy) park deserves some consequences. But I did not expect mud in the cuff of my pants, not even after several nearly ankle-deep puddles. (Hurray for L.O.C. wipes!) But I had a blast. I’d never dreamed of exploring in my good clothes before! It’s cool to do something new and crazy once in a while.
In a way I was disappointed by the park. I always remember things bigger than they are, because I was smaller then, but some things actually seemed bigger and more spread out. I remember more trees…and places to run and hide where no one could see you. Dad used to take us there to play while he “hit shags” (golfer’s slang for chipping golf balls across the grass to practice your swing). There was a little drainage ditch, lined with concrete stones that ran from a pump (overflow?) down towards the little pond which had spread out of itself along one side of the park. We would walk along the rocks there, pretending whatever was the latest play, and in the summer we’d take off our sandals and step in the clear-running water. Sometimes we’d “hike” all the way across the park to the “big creek” and try to get as close to the water as we could without falling in. And once we heard a noise that, to us, sounded like a helicopter across the creek. In our play, we decided it was the bad guys looking for us (could have been the people from the orphanage we’d escaped from) and ran terrified back towards the other end where Daddy was. I think we really freaked ourselves out…I remember refusing to stop running until we were out of the trees and could see Dad across the grassy area. And I remember being exhausted.
The trees are more sparse now, and the little drainage ditch (our “little creek”) seems longer…I think they moved it when they shortened the pond—and there are no bushes to hide in around the little creek. Oh, and there are no ducks in the pond. Maybe they died…I think that pond would kill me, too. The houses in the neighborhood behind the park (or actually, alongside it), still have short fences—some of them the twenty year old chain-link that we had when I lived there—and since they are on a sort of hill that slopes down towards the park (and the pond) you can see straight into their yards and homes no matter how tall the fence is.
Someday I want to take the special people in my life to that park and point out to them all the things we saw and did. Somehow, I hope I find someone who understands what I’m seeing…
three little girls
pretending
their little hearts out
in a magical world of sun and shade
water and trees…
trees that hide
the rest of the world
from view…
I learned about how moss grows on trees at that park. It doesn’t exactly stay on the north side in Houston.
I didn’t remember the traffic noise being so disrupting, either…and that was before that special wall was put up…
Enough nostalgia for today…and this is a very long post as it is.
P.S. The birthday party was fabulous! Mystery Dinner Theatre, where all the guest played a character. Brilliant thought on Darra’s part.
PennyDaisy 