It was a beautiful afternoon. I was sitting under the shelter house, my backpack, laptop and notebook sitting in front of me, slowly sipping Peach Tea from a Taco Johns cup. I can smell the river; it isn’t too far away, only 50 feet, may less. Looking around, I can see the aftermath of the flood from a summer back. Being from the Sioux City area, the damage that was left behind really hits home. There is a veranda out by the water with the waterline clearly visible on its maroon pillars. The bike path is elevated from the surrounding land, weaving around the riverfront. You can see the sand that was left over from the rising waters. I remember when the bike path was completely covered, invisible under the murky river.
In front of me is a park. It is such a beautiful day outside that the park is full of kids; every swing is filled. I can hear them laughing and playing and it brings me back to when life was so much easier. That time when all you had to worry about was how high you could fly. There is a couple sitting a few tables over and I can hear their conversation perfectly. They are discussing the possibilities of a new motorhome. The woman wants one with bunk beds; the man wants a rear living area. They are quietly arguing over the endless possibilities when a young girl runs up. She is sad because she has no one to play with. “Are you sure the kids that you’re trying to play with can speak English?” the mom asks. That comment takes me by surprise until I realize that most of the children on the playground are Hispanic. I keep listening to what the mom has to say to her little girl, and what she says next is something I have never thought of before. “Guess how many people you meet if you don’t ask them their name?” she asks. “You don’t really meet someone until you know their name.” I thought about this and realized that she was completely right. Do you really know someone if you don’t know their name?
As all of this is happening, I can hear the rumble bars on the highway, signaling to cars that they need to slow down before they exit. I look up and see a very large man walking a very small dog. The poor dog has to take six steps to the man’s one. A couple rides by on a tandem bicycle, perfectly in sync with each other. I can smell fresh cut grass; there is a man mowing the lawn of the historical center that I hadn’t noticed before, despite the loud hum of the blades.
I look back and notice that the woman from the table is no longer there. Looking around I see her pacing the length of the shelter house, muttering to herself. She makes her way back to her table and picks up a small book with highlighting inside. It doesn’t take me long to realize that it is a playbook; she is rehearsing her lines. I look down at the time and realize I have been sitting here for almost two hours. Sitting outside, with people around, the sounds of life everywhere, is really relaxing. I think I may have found a new place to do my homework. If only they had wireless internet available.
