A Walk in the Park

It’s cold for this time of year, Maggie. March many weathers, that’s what they call it. Not this year though. It has stayed cold and bright for weeks now. You’d love the daffodils in the park this year Maggie. They’re dancing away in the light breeze. Their yellow faces trying to catch the sun’s rays before it disappears into the frosty night. They’re a cheerful flower, the daffodil. Nature’s way of telling us that the winter is behind us and summer is on its way, isn’t that right Maggie?

You used to tell me how lucky we were to have this park on our doorstep. I suppose I took it for granted. For years the area around the river was ignored, left to drunks and miscreants. Not anymore. The people in the Tidy Towns Committee got to work on it and it is a credit to them. Do you remember when the kids were young, and we brought them to the park for picnics? There was many a Sunday afternoon spent down by the river. You wouldn’t be doing it today though Maggie, bit cold for picnics.

Can you see that young man and his son, Maggie? They are at that part of the river where it bends in a long slow curve like a woman’s shoulder? The place where it’s shallow enough to wade in and catch minnows. Can you see them? The little boy is about three. A solid child he is. Snotty nose, hearty laugh and I’d say he’d be a young lad that’s game for anything. They were walking along the path when the young lad bolted. Straight into the water before his Dad could catch him. It was lucky he was wearing welly boots.

“Fish Daddy, Fish.”

“Not today son.”

His Dad is swinging him up on his shoulders now and they are going back on the path, the two of them singing, “One, two, three four five, once I caught a fish alive.” Such joy. Can you hear them, Maggie? I hope they stay safe.

I think I’ll take a little rest on this bench, Maggie. It’s about two kilometres of a walk if you go the whole way around the park and go straight back to our house. We paced it out one day, do you remember? It’s a nice walk on a day like today. It’s a nice walk any day but today the river is in full flow. There is an urgency about it as it surges past as if it’s in a hurry to get to the coast. Its music more brass band than tinkling piano. It makes me wonder if it wants to wash away this virus from our countryside, wipe it out with one rush of ice-cold water. Fanciful nonsense you say. You’re right, Maggie.  

The trees are quiet today. No wind to screech through their gnarly branches, so they stand there, brooding, their branches reaching up to the sun, trying to find some warmth, to tease their buds out of hiding. Around their base the daffodils dance enticing the new grass, the emerald grass to come forward and it does, sprouting up in unexpected places. Fresh growth, new life. You can smell it in the air, a freshness, a hint of newness, of rebirth. I hope it’s a sign Maggie, a sign that life goes on, that we will get through this trial.

Very few people out for a walk today Maggie, and those that are, are keeping their distance. Two meters apart. I thought it would be impossible, but most people are doing their best. If anything, people are friendlier. They wave and say good morning, stand back and let you pass. No handshakes, of course, no direct contact, but at least its interaction.

Quite a few swans around today, Maggie. It’s that time of year, isn’t it? They’re getting their nests ready, preparing for the future. Its what we all should be doing this time of year I suppose. After the darkness of the winter nights, the longer evenings give us all the opportunity to get out and about. Get a bit of exercise. Take a walk in the park. It’s a bit more difficult this year though, Maggie. This Covid-19 virus has us all gone demented. We’re in lock-down, or is it lock-in? I’m not sure but it doesn’t matter anyway. This daily walk through the park is the only thing keeping me sane at the minute, Maggie. The winter was long enough but now our movements are curtailed. It’s alright for me. I’m old enough to be retired but young enough to get out for the walk. God help the poor help families with young children. They need fresh air and light and the company of others. Kids need to play, they need interaction. Back gardens can be very small.     

Did you hear that, Maggie? I think the swans are fighting it out, like kids that have been cooped up together for too long. Do you remember that time we had the caravan down in Wexford and it rained for the whole week we were there? We barely got a look at the beach. It was so bloody cold and windy. Jeez, they nearly killed each other.

That’s an amazing pair, right over there, Maggie. They are so regal. That one reminds me of you, Maggie, if you don’t mind me saying so. Regal, aloof, a thing of beauty. No-one knows the activity going on underneath, away from prying eyes, just to keep afloat, to keep her head above water. You should have said something earlier, Maggie. Now I know what you’re going to say. That you didn’t want to worry me. Well, you were wrong, Maggie. It pains me to say it, but you were wrong. If we had got you to the Doctor earlier, he could have helped you, could have saved you. You could be here with me in person, not just in my head. We could face this challenge together. I can’t do it alone. I miss you, Maggie.