Gage Park

A Late Summer Afternoon at Gage Park

We parked a long way from the playground. Kaitlin had fallen asleep and I thought the walk in the stroller would do us both good. The path was shaded with large cedars and spruce trees. The breeze was sweet.

I found a bench under an oak, unbuckled Kaitlin from the stroller and settled her on my lap. I watched the children playing in the splash fountain and I watched their parents watching them.

I saw a young couple sharing a cigarette and being mildly neglectful of their preschool kids.

I saw a mother and grandmother arguing in a language I didn't know, while two little boys played happily beside them. I've traded hellos with them over the summer. The boys don't seem to mind the constant bickering and I often wonder if they are actually comforted by it.

I saw an older couple with a young toddler who seemed both overprotective and overindulgent, perhaps afraid that the miracle given to them could be snatched away in a moment.

I saw with a wary eye the middle-aged man who may have just been taking a rest from cycling, but who was sitting too close and staring too long at a little girl. I was thankful the park was so full of families.

Kaitlin soon awoke, the smile on her face priceless when she realized she was at the park, and at the good park. She sat on my lap and watched for a while too. After a few minutes she asked to get down, and I took her sundress off and she danced and pranced around showing off her pink, ruffled one piece. I quickly looked around and was grateful the middle-aged man had left. Then my one and a half year old daughter, who is the bravest woman I have ever met, ran straight into the biggest fountain sprinkler, turning to make sure I saw, then turning to make sure everyone saw. I couldn't resist joining her. I am also an older, overindulgent, overprotective parent. We laughed, we got soaked, and we knocked over other kids. We played and splashed until the sun started to go behind the trees and Kaitlin started shivering.

It was actually her idea to move on. We sat back down on the bench and I took off her wet bathing suit and put her sundress back on. I was chilly in my wet clothes but not bothered by them. After a brief swing ride we started back to the car. There was no need for the stroller on the way back. Kaitlin happily walked beside me holding my hand, talking to me in a language that I vaguely remember but no longer understand. Babbling baby wisdom that I wished she could share.

After we settled in the car, I saw my camera sitting in my bag. I hadn't taken any pictures or video of this perfect afternoon. But then I realized it doesn't matter. The movie in my mind is far clearer and far more colourful than anything a camera could capture. I think Kaitlin will remember too.