A January Walk

On a recent California “winter” day with highs in the 60s, I took a walk around my neighborhood park. This is not to be confused with real winters in the South and East, where ice storms and 17-degree temperatures define the season.

Everyone was taking advantage of the sunny, blue-sky day, so the park was busy and brimming with sound. I heard baseballs being thrown back and forth by boys practicing for Little League; the loud thock, thock of hollow whiffle balls as folks played pickleball; the weightier sound of a basketball—dribble, pass, shoot, and clang off the hoop; and the softer tone of tennis balls being volleyed. The crack of a bat echoed across the field as a dad pitched a baseball to his son.

Three boys of different ages were busy flying a small radio-controlled airplane. The tallest boy controlled the buzzing craft deftly, flying it high, performing twirls and loops, and then gradually bringing it back to earth. Each time he launched it into the air, the littlest boy called out, “Come to me! Come to me!” The pilot carefully guided the plane to the little one at least once. As the plane dipped, spun, twirled, and dove, I decided this show was as good as any I had seen performed by the Blue Angels.

Pairs of Little Leaguers, first standing, then down on one knee, practiced throwing and catching balls, the rhythmic sound of balls smacking mitts. The boys’ backpacks hung like ornaments on the chain-link fence around the baseball field, a bat peeking out of each one. “See if you can throw and catch ten times in a row!” the coach called. “Don’t stress—just keep your eye on the ball.”

A little girl in a long, sparkling lavender skirt zipped by on her foot-powered scooter, propelling herself at high speed. I waved to her as she zoomed past, her long, late-afternoon shadow trailing behind her. Her grandmother lagged behind, calling for her to slow down. Later, the child played happily on the slides and jungle gyms while Grandma stood watch over the scooter.

A young girl with colorful beads in her braided black hair said “Hi!” to me as she joyfully ran by on her way to the kids’ play area. Later she said hello again, pumping her legs to sail as high as possible on the swings, with her dad giving her an extra push.

Dog walkers and moms with kids in strollers also enjoyed an outing. Two boys purred by on their pint-sized electric bicycles. Then they stopped and compared notes on the various features of their totally cool wheels.

As I walked, I experienced a feeling I had once before, when walking in Golden Gate Park in San Francisco. I felt a kind of euphoria, as if this is the way the world should be—a place where there is plenty of room for everyone to express themselves freely; a world where each person has enough food and clean water, a home, people they love, and a park where they can connect with nature. It made me wonder if wars would end forever if we simply had our basic needs met. I hope so.

~ Ruth Rezos