A walk in the park

Everyone has heard the phrase; it’s a walk in the park, meaning it is simple, easy, no big deal.  That isn’t always true.  An actual walk in the park is just another one of life’s adventures.

I am certainly no recluse and yet I find myself not wanting to run into anyone who wants to talk when I am walking.  Part of that is an inherent shyness that extends to the feeling they may judge my reasons or ways for walking so I don’t want to risk it.  Another part is that any connection will engender a need for further connection each time we see each other and interfere with the reason I go to the park – to walk forty minutes.

I think of that walk, an ambling but constant sort of stroll, as winding up my body, or maybe winding back time.  Breaking interrupts the timing, the cadence of both muscles and thoughts.

I do enjoy perusing the people and houses and dogs and trees and even the bees and butterflies as I walk.  Over time many of these things begin to present their own stories and I sort of prefer learning them from my own point of view.

There is a short man with his arm in a sling who brings his huge shaggy black and white dog and turns him loose!  My fear of dogs makes me instantly dislike him and his apparent belief that for some reason he is above the leash law or that people don’t mind his dog gallumping up to them.  Knowing this I watch him from as far away as possible, trying to stay out of the dog’s path and also trying to convince myself that this dog is just a big friendly pet, which it really is.  I try to give him the benefit of the doubt and I can do that as long as he stays away from me.  Another part of me says if I made friends with the guy and got to know his dog I might like them both very much—at least the dog.

There are all kinds of trees and I love that I can name a lot of them.  There are three kinds of stinging things, two kinds of bees and some wasps, but they all tend to leave me alone and when they don’t I use my brother’s old bee charm:  my voice!  I simply say, “Bees go away.”  And they do.

And then there are the various and sundry people who come like I do, just to be there.  They swing their babies, read books in the shade, bring office work in big blue totes, drink out of brown paper bags, pick up trash and ride bicycles through the paths to get to the other side. 

I love this place.  It is a real city park.