Patterson Park is a grand big span of green hills, one man made pond, multiple sports facilities outdoors, a recreational pool, a recreational skating rink, an old people’s home, an observatory, and two playgrounds. Years ago, you could see turtles race around a great circle as a forgettable memorial statue oversees the ruckus. Or maybe you could watch the workers labour under the sun as they make the pond. You can walk overtop of the pond on a winding deck, feed the ducks, watch the dogs play, or climb a tree. You can even infiltrate the castle-like playground and immerse yourself in childhood as you slide through castle walls. You don’t pay a penny, but don’t forget to bring your own tennis rackets and balls – they have public tennis fields too.
You might see families playing softball, or walking through the botanical gardens. You can hear children laughing as they sit on canons near the observatory and splash their curious fingers into the fountains. You can wait until it snows and see people using garbage bags, garbage bin lids, and maybe a sled to slope down the triple decker hill at the foot of the observatory. You can pick raspberries and let the juice stain the front of your shirt as you wave to the elders returning to their homes.
Maybe you can travel in time and see me holding snow to my chin as blood poured from the three holes I made in my mouth and tongue after a perilous sled ride down the hill. Or perhaps you’d hear the way my father speaks to my mother when she forgets the tennis rackets at home. Maybe you’d see me hold the hand of my uncle’s girlfriend as we walk her dog Luna through the park, a week before my uncle shares he’d gotten another woman pregnant. Maybe you’d see my grandmother smoking a cigarette straight off the plane from Argentina, complaining about her sons moving so far away. You might see Katarina, my childhood friend, double checking google maps four times before we recall which direction the gardens are in.
You won’t see me there often now, and if you do, I’ll complain about the ten minutes it took me to find parking. I’d guide my dog through the park until we meet Katarina on the other side, excited to see me after so many years. I’d lace up my skates near Christmas time with my younger cousins, taking them out to a favorite pastime of mine.
Maybe you’ll see me there in a couple of years, hand in hand with a child whose other hand is held by someone with a grand big smile.
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