Friendship Park

Friendship is such an inviting name for a park. The name gives you this preconceived notion that upon going or hanging out in this park that friendship will happen. If you were honest with yourself you would admit that if the park were given the name “Nemesis” or “Antagonist” it would not have the same curb appeal.

When I first saw the brown wooden sign that supported painted gold in all capped letters, FRIENDSHIP PARK, I thought to myself “what a silly name for a park!” But as the days grew into nights the park remained the same busy place and I began to spend time there. I watched as the basketball players played ball, the soccer players chasing the ever moving checker patterned blur, spaced out/over worried parents watching there kids on the playground equipment, the dog walkers, the runners and power walkers, old couples hand in hand, and young couples kissing.

This park, undeniably, was a place of friendship.

Winter turned into spring, spring to summer, and summer into fall, but no matter the season the flow of people in the park was always consistent.  I kept wondering what the park was like at night.

Was such a friendly park inviting at night as well?

So, a few nights back I packed up my camera gear and jaunted over the few blocks to the park from where I live I sat and I watched the mother’s talking life, kids screaming, skate borders…the park seemed full of life and zest, noise and familiarity, but as the sun went down, the park emptied one by one. It was sad in a way, watching as the wind swayed the empting swings back and forth.  The once lively park now seemed vast a desolate. The sound of the basketball players in the background seemed far away and cold. I was surprised to feel this way.  It simply felt wrong as I sat on the bench and observed what was happening, I could not leave so I lay down and watched the stars above wondering if life was on pause or if the isolated playground was simply asleep.

I stayed like that for a time, but then I walked around. Feeling the cold metal bars, the pinch of the chains on the swings, the rough bark laying still on the ground, a smile came across my face as I recognized that the park was not desolate or sad instead it was full of friendship and life just in a calmer way. I was still at rest and the weight of my world had somehow left.

The park had done its job, once again.

A park is there for the end of a chapter when you need a fresh beginning. It serves the purpose its called for, weather its for play, practice, or contentment. Weather its for a mass amount of people, young to old, or for one girl in the heart of night.

A park could just be a park, a place that was built for no other purpose then to be built. But what if we all took the time to see the beauty in what always seems so common? What if we found purpose in the ordinary?

I found it to be extraordinary.