The Park

  In Grandview, Washington, there is a park not more then a few acres in size. It is a quiet place most days, but without notice can fill with the sound of children’s laughter as compared to school yard on the first day of spring.

  When I was a child I remember coming to this park with my mother. We would stop at the little hotdog stand on the highway and bring lunch to one of the many picnic table that scattered across the park. The ketchup dripped from my mouth as I rushed to consume the tasty snack. I hurried, so I could be released to play in the small wading pool. I can remember spending most of the hot days of summer cooling off in that little pond under the watchful eye of my mother.

 

  The wading pool is only a memory, demolished and covered in asphalt. The children that play Basketball on its surface know nothing of my joy that I once felt within its cool waters.  

                                             

  Today, the grass seems greener than what I remember. I know the trees are taller but from the eyes of a child, they always seemed larger than life.  From the snow filled Hallmark views in the winter to the shady days of summer, there is always someone there to enjoy its landscape. With each new season, the children play creating new memories.

  I bought my first house across the street from this magical place. I watch my son play as I did under the watchful eyes of his mother.  His pond has become the merry-go-round. If he isn’t climbing on the play structure, he is running across the open expanse of the parks interior to find another playmate. These will one day be his happiest memories.

  One day, when his parents are gone as mine are now. I hope he will bring his family here and think of us as he sits under the tall trees of this little park.