Park surprise

I love finding money in a forgotten pocket. Maybe it’ll show its face when I’m going through my jeans before doing laundry or when I grasping for a movie ticket stub after a trip to the concession stand. Regardless, I find such pleasure in the unexpected discovery, small though it might be. Well, JG and I found something that brought the joy of a surprise $20 bill, except that it came in the form of a gorgeous local park.

When we first moved here, we stopped by the used-book store down the street and JG found a copy of A Walk in the Woods, by Bill Bryson. Harry, the outgoing store manager, enthusiastically told us about the nearby Anson B. Nixon Park, full of hiking and other fun things to do. We nodded politely and went on our way, storing the information but not really acting on it. Today, though, caught in an after-lunch cycle of “I don’t care what we do, but what do you want to do?”, one of us suggested checking out this mythical park. JG went online and discovered all sorts of cool features: Free concerts on Wednesday! A disc golf course! Walking trails! So we pulled on sneakers, threw water and sunscreen in a backpack, and set off.

Five minutes later – hello, spontaneity! – we were tramping through a well-marked trail shaded by towering trees. The weather was perfect for being outside: clear skies, warm air, and zero humidity. Birdsong flitted through the air and we passed through little pockets of gnats in the path. I paused occasionally to take pictures, stalking the small, white butterflies who refused to be still and pose. We lingered on the small, wood-slat bridges and reminded each other of stories from when we counseled summer camp and escaped for some alone time on the hiking trails. We held hands, walked, and remembered.

We emerged from the trails to the main section of the park with all sorts of playground equipment. A small pavilion sheltered a birthday party with chattering children and they had spilled out into the carousel, monkey bars, and swings. Swings! I hadn’t gone on swings in forever! Much to JG’s chagrin, I walked over to the set, slipping the camera off my shoulder. “Can you hold this?” I asked.

JG took the camera from me, begrudgingly. “Uh, I’ll go check out the volleyball and bocce ball courts.”

“Could you take a picture of me first?”

“Fine.” The shutter opened and closed. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

The swing hung a little low, even for my short legs, but I managed to push off and let gravity do the rest. Next to me, a dad gave his little girl “underdog” pushes, pushing her so high that he could run underneath her. She shrieked with delight and demanded, “Again, again!” And he did it again, and once for his wife, too. The squeaky chains brought me back to my own playground antics – standing up, sometimes on one leg, and a backward somersault dismount. JG strolled back to find me smiling, realizing anew that I was lucky to have escaped my childhood without a broken neck. I hopped off the swing to join him under a shady tree to read for a while. I’ll save the back flip for next time.