Essay about Memories of The Park

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I smell the cool crisp autumn air rustling over the fragile carpet of shriveled leaves. I hear a faint rock tune in the distance: Keep Rollin Rollin! Yeah!: I’m almost there… I feel a sudden burst of energy and suspension rush over me and through my veins, like a little kid in a candy shop. I begin to gaze over the bright color monkey bars and toys as I step onto the main platform of the play area. I smell the clean woodchips bringing back distant memories of County Park. I’m here.

I step over a lively emerald green plant and turn to hear no longer the rock tune but a bunch of ear-piercing screams coming from a group of small kids running on a jungle gym as though the grim reaper was right behind them. I walk over towards a
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I wonder off the track and past a little girl on a pastel tricycle and climb to the top of a wooden playhouse.

A swift swoosh of the nighttime air dances across the now lonely playground. I let my mind drift along with the dancing night breeze far from the ground reminiscing on all of the things that make this place so precious to me. I lay down on the top of the playhouse and stare at the starlit sky, all of the memories returning to me: like the time I met here on top of this very play house with my friends and we stayed up almost all night at the park planning a party wrapped in our comfy blankets, but now all of those people have moved away from me. But the memories and I still remain here inside of me, tears trickling down my wind blown face surrounded now by darkness. The happiness rushes out of me as almost as fast as it came over me, I hop off the playhouse and rush over past the sandbox to the swing. Where many years ago I met my once best friend for the first time that now lives in Minnesota. I imagine that I am experiencing it all over inside swinging back in fourth on the rusty swing to fill my head with happiness, however I know deep down inside that it has faded.

I jump off of the swing and begin to glide over the platform once more, I wonder away from the pine trees, over the bumpy track and leave behind the shadowed covered equipment padded by the fresh smelling wood chips as I exit the

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