The playground

There is a park with a playground a short walk from my house. I used to pass it on my way to work, and will again when I start the new job on Monday. I passed it today too, on my way to run some errands.

When Monkey was a baby, we used to go to that park. She would sleep in the pram, or breastfeed and then sleep, and I would read a book. Afterwards, we'd go to the grocery store and I would load up the rack under the pram with the groceries and go home. As Monkey got older, she mastered the swings, and the slides, and the shaky little bridge. As she got older still, she developed a whole posse at that playground-- a nice group of kids, all speaking the Old Country language, hanging out there with moms or nannies. That playground was a fixture of our lives.

Last fall they closed it for renovations, and I remember thinking that there would be all new equipment when our new baby will be ready for it. The playground didn't reopen until well into the spring. I've only seen it from my car's window since it reopened, but according to the scouting reports (Monkey, who went in the spring on her one day home with the nanny, and, of course, the nanny) it's nice, although the park by the music teacher's house has more challenging equipment.

Today on the playground there were leaves on the ground and kids in coats. Last time I remember looking at it, the sprinklers were on and kids in bathing suites and shorts were running through them. I feel like I haven't been to that playground in years, even though it has really been less than one. We've been to other playgrounds, the ones where Monkey can still find new tricks to try. This one is more for little kids, toddlers, babies even. And looking at it, all covered with leaves as it was today, it hit me-- we won't be using it next year either.