I've told you a little about the Park. It is one of a few places that let me dream and give me peace.
It's a tiny place with gravel to crunch, a trash can, a few picnic tables and lots of trees. Traffic whizzes by, but if I roll up the passenger window I can't hear it. Everybody is in a hurry, everybody but me, it seems. The Park is all mine, just for awhile, today.
When I worked in that part of town I often had my lunch in the Park. Yogurt, an apple, my water bottle or can of Monster all tasted better in the Park than the parking lot. The sky is bluer there, the rain softer. I'm never cold there, never too warm. There is always the shade of the trees, always protection in the arms of the wind. The Park feels like my best friend sometimes. I can loosen my jacket, kick off my shoes. I am safe.
Nobody bothers me there. No one knows I am there. It is one of a handful of places where I can stop for a few minutes and enjoy my inner self. I'm afraid someone will discover my secret hiding place. I know the Park isn't mine alone, but on those days as I eat my pudding cup and savor my Cortland, it might be.
With my new job there won't be time to go to the Park for lunch except on a rare day off. It feels like I am walking away from an old friend. . I will have to find a new best friend, I guess, but it won't be the same. There's a saying that familiarity breeds contempt. I'll challenge that. Familiarity breeds comfort.
Will I ever again have time to sit by the lake? Or cruise the cemetery? Am I ever going to stroll through the woods on the beach? Did I make a mistake committing to a job that will keep me from my favorite places? I don't know, I just don't know.
The sacrifices we make for a paycheck!
We lose the rain spattering on the windshield while we sip our morning coffee at the water's edge. We lose the sunshine, warm on our faces, because we are cooped up in a building sans windows. We are so tired that we can't have a moment to share a drink or a walk, only a bed that calls us for a nap. Our kids end up in daycare when we would rather they be with us; our friends end up distant because we are so darned busy. We no longer have time for even a quick lunch in the Park.
When I retire, or semi-retire, I am going to go to that park or one like it as often as possible. It's been but a few days since I was last at the Park. I miss it already. My quick stop at the marina, no matter how much I love it, wasn't enough. I want the caress of the leaves and the wind in my hair. I want the peace that the smell of wildflowers gives me. I want time for my Park.
I want to be able to choose where I go and how to spend the however-many days I have left. Chasing a paycheck is a necessity, I know that. Please don't be condescending by patting my shoulder and telling me that it is something we all have to do.
If I could choose right now, I'd choose my time in the Park.
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