The Park People

The Park

I live near a park. What luck, what bliss ! I thank Darling for his good senses , picking this apartment. The apartment itself is nothing to write home about, I mean it will get us through this time we have to live here but the park. Magic.

I take a walk across the park daily to get to a place where I volunteer. I love the shade of the trees,  I even obsessively collect fallen leaves. The wind through my hair. The sun on my face. It’s nice, you know?  But the people, the people I see every day, the same ones at the same time, that’s what really intrigues me.

There’s a singer. She has a loud , powerful voice that carries itself half way across the park. She has earphones on and a notebook and that makes me think she might be practicing for something. Something big. She some times interrupts herself to say “good morning beautiful ! Bless you!” to me as I pass her by. I think of talking to her, I mean, she thinks I am beautiful. *blush* But I don’t want to intrude. I hope she knows from the way I smile at her that I think her singing is amazing. Perhaps she thinks I am a bit nuts. Oh well.

There is a  guy in a wheelchair and his friend who pushes him around the park. They drink. I am pretty sure they drink. They usually stop their chit chat whenever I pass them by and don’t restart until I am a few feet away. That usually makes me feel utterly self conscious. I wish they would say something. I find them a tad bit scary.

The tai chi guy in the morning who dances around a tree. He flows about in his baggy linen clothes. Usually , like I said, around a tree. It’s pretty fascinating. Why aren’t people this free back home?

There is an old lady with a shopping cart full of old soft toys. She is there at the park every day, and I don’t know what she is doing with the soft toys. I saw some cops give her food and water yesterday. Nice guys.

And my personal favorite. The well dressed lady who reads , sitting upright at a park bench. Her lips are painted dark red, she wears glistening drop earrings, she wears high heels. She keeps a hang bag close to her body. It always looks to me like she is ready to go somewhere . But she is just sitting there, very upright, and totally well dressed,  reading. Is she waiting for someone? A lover perhaps? Do they meet at the park for ten minutes and kiss before they have to go away to their lives?

Well I don’t know. These are some of the people I see every day and because I remember feeling terrified that I might never get used to this place, I love the moments when my brain goes, hey, I’ve seen that guy before ! And then the same brain that just rejoiced goes “Wait, hopefully they don’t see you. Because familiarity isn’t necessarily a good thing. You know what I mean?”

But yes, the place is growing on me. I am not saying I am comfortable but I am ok. The park is beautiful. The people are nice. When it feels like the apartment is closing in on me, I can go lie under a tree. For now. I am ok.

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