Back in early July, peak summer, our neighbourhood park was dismantled.
We knew it was coming. There had been planning meetings and neighbourhood consultations and the release of official blueprints. And so, on that sunny morning when the fences went up and the playground equipment started to come down, we weren't surprised. We were expecting the change. We knew our park would be rebuilt, better, bigger, and more interesting than before.
The weeks passed. The planned unveiling date - Labour Day long weekend - came and went. Summer changed into autumn. Our park remains dismantled. Dismantled but not abandoned. There's a lot of activity at our park. Some days it's almost frenetic. Structures have been built, gravel has been dumped, turf has been laid and watered by an extensive sprinkler system even though it rained for 28 of October's 31 days (and don't even get me started on November). Things are happening at our park.
We pass our park every morning on the way to school and every afternoon on the way home from school. When I go out for groceries, to the doctor, wherever, I pass our sad, scattered park. It's difficult not to relate. Our park is a work in progress. She's busy and not quite functional and dreams of being valued and fulfilling to others. She's not there yet but she will be one day. When she's not dismantled.