Trip to the Park

November 27, 2008
By Spencer Coggin, McDonough, GA

A cold, but peaceful, atmosphere surrounded me on that day of my youth with my father by my side on my journey to the wonderland for all children; the park. Just leaving our current location of a food establishment, toy from my meal in hand, it was tough for me to control the amount of joy in my body while making the trip. Excited about showing the other youth my plastic pride and joy, me and my father pulled into the vacant lot to find a barren area full of metallic slides, metal jungle gym structures, and most depressing to me, no other children to express my excitement about my new toy. It occurred to me how ironic the situation was because the ultimate escape for a young child, to play and be rambunctious, was like a desert, where one could hear the wind howl against the metal formations.

My persona immediately switched from eager to somewhat disappointed based on the fact that my new idol, in the shape of a cartoon character, was not going to be shared with the other children. As I ascended up the buildings made of metal and wood, it was dissatisfying to me to see my own flesh and blood off to the distance not watching me make my way up the mountainous incline. Trying to make the best of the situation I was facing at such a young age, I began to make my descent down the steep slope, watching my new favorite item stay behind.

After making the complete run of the slide, my departure of every kid’s wondrous fantasy came; deepening my sad emotions on what was supposed to be one of the most enjoyable days of my life. With my true companion in my right hand and the one place I thought was going to be truly remarkable got farther away, I realized that this place called “the park” was not always occupied with young minds hoping to create an enjoyable experience to remember forever.

The author's comments:
My English teacher asked our class to write a short descriptive story about a trip to the park and this was one of the only trips to the park that I could remember. I was only about 7 or 8 years old when this happened. I made this story seem a bit more depressing than it probably was, but I decided to go with a depressed tone because I knew that most people in my class would choose a happy, fun tone. In my mind, I felt that a sad and emotional tone would make my story just a bit more unique.

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