One day in the park
I remember this one distinct day at Balboa Park. It was so hot. We used to go to a lot of parks, though I don’t particularly remember my mom as someone I spent a lot of time outside with. I’m glad she didn’t have an iphone back then, because I wouldn’t be able to look back on her pleasure of carrying and tediously working on crossword puzzles everywhere she sat. I see her walking out of restaurants to the car, spritely clicking her short steps on heels in parking lots. Folded in one hand with a bunch of other nonsense.
But I remember that day in Balboa park- out of nowhere. Like I said, we went through a phase of going to a lot of parks. I remember the Twisty Turny park - we used to call it that because of this crazy rope twisty gadget and because it had the best jungle gym by lightyears - And it would get so incredibly hot there. Sweltering. And the grass on the hills would even be dry and yellow all summer long. Balboa Park must’ve been that hot too, but you don’t realize it when you’re young like then. Like the fun of a new platform, a new spaceship, a new thing to try out on the jungle gym blocked out the recognition of heat. But this one day at balboa, I found myself starting to slow down, starting to want to scooter by my mom. I started to feel the heat. I just wanted her near me. I wanted to understand what type of creature she was, what beautiful souls like her did and liked. She was perfect then, working so hard all the time and would take us to the park. That day it was like I began to want to grow up, to become closer, to be more like her.
We fell into the swooning siren of the ice cream truck. That day I got a powerpuff girls ice cream pop for the first time, as the heat rose in waves from the concrete in the distance. I had always eyed it but never dared to get that Bubbles-blue ice cream pop. I remember popping out the gumball eyes, chewing, then feeling the little bit of gum get stiff and frozen, becoming unchewable. I didn’t want to waste any of its precious worth.
I also remember getting my tongue stuck on a firecracker popsicle, the kind that makes your mouth all red and then blue. Or is it blue then red? Anyway it was frozen solid and I had never gotten something stuck to my tongue like that before. Even now, I’m hesitant to touch my mouth to a popsicle too quickly, without heating it up with a few quick breaths.
She smiled a lot that day. She was the total mama that day. She probably wore her little denim shorts and pink tank with a fanny pouch. Big white sneakers marked the ends of her little legs, and gave her at least an inch worth of height. I miss those “her” outfits.
I wish I could just roam around her, watch her, admire her, because goddamn I miss her. I feel that empty space in my heart. I feel the hole there as if this hole had a distinct sensation of a collapsing cave, black in color but so far from dark. I miss her sparkle. I miss her shine. Most of all I miss the warmth of her smile on that hot, hot day, that let me know that it was all going to be ok.
