Memories from the Park

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

I recently visited my childhood park to go for a walk and take pictures.

This is the park I grew up in. This is where I swung on the swings, where my brother and I launched model rockets with our dad, where mom took us to fly kites on a sunny day. It's the park my family planted trees in when I was ten, and the place I came back to eight years later to mulch the same trees we had planted, helping them through a long, dry summer.

In so many ways, this park, and the neighborhood that surrounds it, are touchstones to my childhood like no other place in the world. Equal are the reminders now, that my childhood has well and truly passed. Nostalgia, with all its unbearable sweetness, creeps in here, and yet there is always something new to be found. New memories floating in on the banks of the lake, or hidden like mushrooms in the grass. Life is a series of ends and beginnings, in all of the best ways.

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  1. Looks like a beautiful place, and the memories make it moreso.


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