Nowadays

I am dressed in a completely inappropriate shade of pink. Inappropriate by my standards because I hate pink. What am I saying? I don’t hate pink. What did pink ever do to me? I’m just more of an all-black everything type of girl. This being my first moment to myself I feel like I should have something war like on. Maybe I should be wearing some fatigues. I am at war with sadness and isolation. Yet, I’m craving time alone to be with the earth, the sounds of nature. I am clinging on to this hour when I walk/run this trail and test the limits of my temple. I need this time alone to catch glimpses of other people. Does that make sense? I want to be alone so I can “people watch.” I want to study humans. I’ve always done that.                              This has always been my favorite place. When I was a child my father would walk on fences and we would sail boats in the pond. I have always loved the park. The peace that comes over me from the fresh air and the quality time with myself. I have a “girl dad”, That was who he was before the phrase was a hashtag. We flew planes that we built and painted in this field. We took the neighbors kids out here and we ate Italian ices in our 1971 Baja beetle. I remember chilling in the playground with my father while we waited for our clothes to dry at the laundromat across the street. I also have fond memories of riding my bike around this trail. What I don’t remember is this trail being so damn long! Whew! I think I’m out of shape. That’s what happens when you forget boxing and running but you finish your toddlers’ meals. Forgetting me and remembering everyone else’s needs is what brought me here huffing and puffing and sweating at only mile one.                                                                           Whenever I pass this bench with the park light right over it, I think of Jared. I sat Jared right on this bench, and I think he must have been hoping I was going to declare my undying love. Ha! I was so tired of his arrogant shit. I was so exhausted by his ego. I brought him here to dump him. He was utterly shocked. He went on and on about how I was supposed to be his Claire Huxtable and he was going to be my Cliff (I wonder what he thinks of Cosby now.)   His creativity and his confidence were attractive. I could bring him anywhere and he could win over anyone, but he was successful in his own right and he came from good stock and he thought that was all he needed. That was not all he needed. He needed humility, honesty, and most importantly he needed to be knocked down off his high horse and I did that as a courtesy to him. I sat Jared down and I slid all the way to the other end of the bench. He was the type to touch you, hug you, kiss you, or just talk about himself incessantly. I just wanted to bypass all of that and get home in time to watch re-runs of The Parkers. This chick I knew had them all burned on DVD and she sold it to me for $5. My kids will never pay for a bootleg DVD. Things are so different now. I just wanted to drive back to campus and laugh. He was literally standing in the way of my happiness. He was quite a character. He once lifted me up and slid me down his body and said, “Do you see what you do to me?” That was impressive to a 20-year-old with struggling self-esteem. Nowadays it would be a red flag of narcissism and hyper sexuality. Nowadays all I want is to wear a shirt that I want to wear. I want to buy a shirt and not even look at the price tag. If I get a shirt and it is not the appropriate shade of pink, I am not wearing it to do the one activity that empties all this negative energy from my mind. Priests wear vestments to perform spiritual duties. I need a superhero outfit because taking this walk in this park, one of my favorite places, is saving myself. 

           “If you don’t take chances, you might as well not be alive.” He keeps saying that. Every time I pass the playground this man in striped pajamas is saying it to himself aloud. There he is again doing pushups in slippers and pajamas on a banned playground. I almost tripped on the caution tape he broke to get in there. I can’t believe I am living in a time where there is a ban on playgrounds to stop the spread of virus. We can’t shake hands or give hugs. We are supposed to wear masks when we come outside and here is this man in his pajamas, doing pushups, and chanting this mantra. He is repeating this canticle about taking chances. He is the epitome of taking chances. His hands are on the pavement that people walk on with their feet, his face is unmasked, he is wearing clothes you are supposed to sleep in. He is wearing slippers outside when Mr. Rogers told me my entire childhood that you come in the house and take off your white sneakers and you put on your slippers. Nowadays I spray my sneakers with disinfectant as soon as I get in the house. He’ll have to just throw those slippers away. I hope they were on sale. Yet, I’m sure Mr. Taking Chances isn’t concerned about his finances. What’s most important is the irony in him saying, “you might as well not be alive.” I am alive. In fact, I’m living a life I think I always wanted. I wanted a good-looking intelligent husband to grow old with. I wanted children I could take to the park. I wanted to take my children to this park. This pond where my father jumped in to save a sinking model ship we had been working on all year. The engine died and it was stuck in the middle of the pond. He swam to it and saved it. He climbed in the car soaking wet. When we got home, my mother made him strip naked in the backyard and she hosed him down before letting him enter the house. That pond had a bad reputation. They used to say there were dead bodies in the water. The ignominy of being valiant.

           I think I’m on my last mile now. I keep seeing the same purple half-eaten lollipop. Who sucked on you and discarded you? Who told you that the taste of your entirety would be nasty when really you were just too sweet? You’ll die here in the beauty of this park, near this banned playground, about sixty feet from the bench where I killed a “situationship”, near the track where this mom of four runs off her chips and dip and glasses of wine. You get to live here, taking chances, near the basketball where I lost forty bucks. If you had eyes you could see the tennis court where I passed out in the hot son during my first lesson. You know, I think I’ll keep this shirt. Suddenly pink became amusingly appropriate. Pink is the color they give newborn babies as soon as they see that the little human has a vagina. I have a vagina.  I’ll run passed my past memories, challenges, pain, present anxiety, and through fear. Pink needs a new reputation. I’ll don my new superhero costume. It’s time to go home.