The Park That Built Me

Claire Meredith

I don’t go there anymore, but when I did, I would spend hours upon hours playing. While at Percy Priest Elementary, I always looked forward to recess. Talking with friends, running and playing tag, skipping over the jump rope—this playground was my happy place. I can remember going outside for P.E and running around the dark, thin, concrete track cracked by roots of trees. I remember playing games on the dusty, dry grass that would scratch up your knees and hands if you fell, but it was all worth it.

During school, I could hear friends yelling happily, chains of swings squeaking, sounds of whistles calling to go inside, and a hundred conver- sations being carried in the wind. Even with all this noise, it was still peaceful. I spent five years at that school, but I never got tired of the playground. There were always new activities to do and games to be played.

Small yellow daisies would creep out of the ground and flourish. Vines and branches made the fences their home. Small thin trees would grow into strong thick trees to climb. And even the dry, dusty grass would eventually turn green again. The park made everything feel a sense of belonging. The park would let you play no matter who you were. The park didn’t care what age you were or what class you were in. It gave everyone a home.

After school, the park would still not rest. There was still more time in the day to play. Aftercare kids, siblings of kids, and neighborhood kids, including myself, would play again, too.

The only time that the playground was alone was at night. Then, it would wake back up early in the morning to start another day. When school finished in the afternoon, I remember going back to the park to play with friends. Over and over, almost every day, I would ask my mom to play. It was easy to go back to the park because I lived down the street. All it took was a short walk or bike ride to get there.

Years of memories were created there, and the park gave me so much fun. I didn’t know it then, but one day it was my last day of playing at that park. All the activities and games came to an end, and my time there was done. That is okay, though, because now the park has room for other kids. My leaving has opened up a space for new kids to play, run, smile, and to create memories just like I had done before them. Even though I don’t belong there anymore, so many other kids do, and they will have just as much fun as I once did, too.

Now, when I get home from school, I step out of the car and hear the kids' happy voices echoing from the park. I remember that it was once me. Now, they are simply taking my place that they will one day give to someone else. Old kids leave. New kids arrive. And the park still carries on.