A Park, A Book and A Journal


It’s a beautiful sunny day and I’m thinking of a million different things I should be doing this morning. I should do some laundry. I should pick up a few groceries. I should, I should, I should. But I won’t. Instead I pack up a book, my journal and of course my cell phone and I head to the park.

I use the term “park” quite loosely. There are very few trees here and there are no flowers. But there are tables and benches more conducive to writing or reading.


There are two basketball courts across from the table where I am sitting. Interestingly enough, I have never seen anyone play basketball here. Instead, the game of choice is soccer.


The swings, slides and climbers are always popular among the children.


But I sit here at a table, alternating between reading a book and writing in my journal. The shouts of the children and the roar of buses passing by are acceptable background noises. Occasionally a dog comes by to check me out and people passing by often greet me with “Buenas Tardes”.

The book I am reading today is about a family in Dublin. The father, an abusive alcoholic, disappears one night and is never heard from again. The wife is left alone to cope with three teenage sons who are resentful and bitter and have turned to a life of crime.

In my journal I am writing about feelings; mainly how I am tired of always trying to do the right thing and banging my head against a brick wall every time. That’s what it feels like. But it’s difficult to look the other way when you see others hurting, despite the fact that they are never there for you when you are in pain. And then they totally ignore your attempts to reach out to them. Life is just too damn short and every moment is precious. Maybe it’s time to change my focus.


My thoughts are interrupted by the chime of my cell phone. Apparently my daily horoscope has arrived. Groaning inwardly, I hesitantly tap the “ignore” icon and glance at the time. How could the hours have passed by so quickly? Reluctantly, I return my journal and book to my backpack. My students await and I have classes to teach. Life in Dublin and pondering my feelings will have to wait for another time. 


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