Reminiscing Amy Wang 2017 is my favorite year by far.
I always went to the park right after school that year. In the park, there was a magnificent tree with one of its branches half splintered off after a violent storm one night. That branch was quite stubborn. It would not break, so it stayed in that curved position ever since, showing the world its rich, chestnut colored rings inside. I had always loved to climb in between the huge crack and watch the world from above. Yet, my favorite thing about the park was not this. I actually love the open space right in front of the tree. Most volleyball players play in this area, but it really isn’t the most ideal for the sport. There was a single water fountain stationed here with a broken faucet, so whenever the sink gets overfilled, the running water surrounds the foundation in a huge puddle. Every time the ball rolls near it, everyone will grab their heads in hysteria because the ball will mix in with the horrible concoction of mud and other questionable things. Deciding who goes to retrieve the ball after is another battle, more dramatic than any volleyball game. Our arguments were all so charming. "Amyyy, you go get it. I literally got it last time and my hands cannot deal with the disgusting mud again." "Come on, at least you have more experience now. You can take it out and clean it faster." "Yeah well, that cannot become a habit." "I think Stella found a condom stuck to it last time. It's so disgusting." "I'm not getting it." "Fine, but you’re getting it next time, okay?” “... sure!” ... “Oh my God…Why does it smell so bad!" Soon one exasperated voice turns into two because my friend would always come help me. We still argue every time, but we both knew the end drill will always be the same. The uplifting and affectionate community is what I really love most of all about the park, not the trees or the volleyball area. The veterans of this community were middle schoolers like me, from all different grades and schools. We did not know each other before, but we bonded quickly over the joy of playing volleyball. At the park, we felt like we could do anything, as long as the adrenaline of the game and pursuit of the ball ran through our veins. The regular members of the park were not the prettiest or the smartest, but they are all incredibly kind and understanding. They treated the park as their second home and welcomed everyone with love and encouragement. I still remember my first time coming to the park, when I was more reserved. They did not ignore or pressure me to talk, but simply gestured for me to sit with them. Watching the ongoing game on the steps, I felt touched and the heavy burden tied to my shoulders was released. Soon, I was light, bouncing on my feet, racing against the wind and reaching out for the ball. My voice flew through the air, calling out to my team members. Without any exchange of words, we learned about each other through the game: in how Alison jumped, how George called, how Roxanne kicked the ball. Through our split-second decisions, our heated passion, and our striking styles we knew each other in the most important ways. It truly felt so liberating, even more so than flying, to express myself in the most honest and invigorating way— with people so inspiring and kind— I could never ask for more. The park seemed to only attract people with the kindest and most carefree hearts. Stranger or not, everyone had a heart of gold. There would be kids as little as seven years old who love to show off their skills to impress us older kids. It’s adorable how they entertain us, but other times, shocking in how talented they are. Moreover, high schoolers come and go, usually with a group of friends, so playing with them is always the most lively. Other times, college-level volleyball teams come to practice in the park and we were all awarded with an exciting game to watch. Even adults as old as 50 years old would join us and like everyone else, we would share the ball with them and play together. There are always extraordinary people out there, and these are only a few:
The park also has its own small, unique secrets that only people who went there would know about. Everyone who has been to the park knows that we get hit by a pungent stench every once in a while, coming from the old Asian men smoking by the steps. It is a habit to cover our noses with our elbows or with the helm of our shirts, whenever this happens. Occasionally, we also get startled with a loud yell by a man that had lost a game of cards. We all share a cringe as when we watch the occasional stray ball fall on top of the old Asian man’s head, even though we all cry “BALL” millions of times to warn them. We all know that man would curse at us in a language that we can’t understand, so we all look guilty together. After that, we would question ourselves again, why they never listen to us even though we yell every time. People who come for more times know that onions rings and Mexican snacks are always sold on Wednesday and Fridays by a sweet lady pushing a cart. Last but not least, everyone that has played volleyball has been annoyed with the giant tree that stands in the way of the ball, whenever we hit too high. It disrupts our play and it is even worse when the ball gets stuck between the branches and we have to figure out all sorts of creative ways to get it back down, from borrowing basketballs to throw to using someone’s jacket. Thinking back, I’m overcome with nostalgia and wistfulness because I know that we can never go back to the same splintered tree, the disgusting water foundation, the shady trees, and the ever-beautiful community. This park was torn down two years ago, to be reconstructed into a new building, so we haven’t met since then. I wonder how all my park friends and the kind strangers are doing. Where are they now? Are they still playing volleyball? I can’t help but think that those childhood days were perfect, with the familiar yellow ball high in the air, the leaves rustling and the breeze against our flushed faces as we ran and kept running. We were all closer then, in all the ways that mattered and more loved than we had ever known. Friends and strangers, young and old, were all my teammates and together we learned not to talk about things that were too heavy and enjoy the present. We all laughed with them and we grew together in that small period of time. So, no matter what, I will always wish them, friends and strangers, the best that they can be from a quiet place afar.
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