I lived in Cambridge for ten years with my family, at a little tearaway part of the city, at the top of a big hill with a beautiful park just a fifteen minutes walk away. I loved that park. It ran by the river, was so big it housed multiple playgrounds, a smaller offshoot of the big river running down its centre, a splash park, tennis courts, many baseball diamonds and every fall, it housed the fair.
In the back of the park, if you know where to look for it, there is a whole smattering of trails. Some on boardwalk through a natural bog area, some through the woods. One has a huge walking bridge that goes over the river where you can sometimes see cranes or swans and once I even saw a deer there.
It’s heaven on earth, for me.
When we still lived there, I would head down to the park all the time to walk, think, detox from whatever I was stressing about, read and more often than not, bring my notebook so I could write. I wrote short stories there, tons of poetry and a fair portion of the first draft of my first book. It’s the park I based the “park” in my book Keeping the Women on.
Today, I woke up groggy and little shaky, as I tend to do these days, but I made myself get up and not just slump back into my warm bed where it’s easy to hide from the world and all things going on. My back is still sore, I am grumpy and cranky but the kids are sweet and cute and very excited about the third day in a row of really nice weather. My husband was excited about the weather too. He sent me a text message about what a glorious day it was outside. So I decided, right then and there on the spur of the moment, to go out, drive an hour, and visit my park.
I packed a bag hastily with a blanket to sit on, my notebook, the novel I am currently reading, a pen, a water bottle and threw them into the van. I got on the road, cranked up the tunes and marvelled, it really is an absolutely gorgeous day!!
I made it to the park in just under an hour, grabbed my stuff and walked towards the back where the trails are.
So much had changed. The pathways were wider, the boardwalk was wider as well. But so much had stayed just as I remembered it.
I walked the boardwalk until I came to my favourite bench area to sit. I put my sandals on the bench beside me, with my bag of stuff, spread out the blanket to sit on (because my back is still sore, I wanted a little cushion) and grabbed my notebook and pen.
For a few minutes, I did nothing. The birds were singing a symphony all around me. The air was warm but the very slight breeze was almost cool. Chipmunks were running cheekily around, pretending to dodge where I sat but obviously curious about the human who deigned to not only walk by, but actually sit in their habitat. A chickadee landed inches from my toe.
I picked up my notebook and began to write. Slowly at first, not really sure where I was going exactly but becoming more and more confident as I went on. My writing became sloppy wherever I got excited over the words and where they were taking me. I didn’t care. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.
Too soon, I had to pack up and walk back to the van, get ready for the drive home so I wouldn’t be late for work.
It really is an amazing park, isn’t it? I’ll miss it too, when we leave.
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I have to ride a bus for nearly an hour and then walk for another 20 mins to get to the closest park to us. I MISS grass. You are so blessed.
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Ohmy. For the record, I meant that in a completely Non-Marijuana sense of the word.
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