The giving park

Hudson and his park make me think of The Giving Tree - though one wherein the giving doesn't famish the giver.

In the beginning, Hudson will witness the park from the vantage of his stroller – the imprinting of the park’s light and shadows, a recollection of its trees. Its smells will stay and bury themselves deep.

Then Hudson arrives as a toddler - higher on the jungle-gym, faster on the slide, needing no pushing on the swing. He'll be accompanied for these years too - Yvonne, Chad, friends and babysitters too.

Eventually, Hudson will venture to the park on his own. He'll have chosen a conveyance by now, so we we'll see Hudson on a bike, a skateboard, maybe on roller blades. Or possibly just on his own two feet - a runner like his mom, his grandfather. By now he'll avoid the toddler section probably, but still feel some link.

Later he'll come with books, friends, a girl...

(Zip right over cars and beers – a feasible but not pretty-to-descibe-stage in the boy/park relationship too.)

Then Hudson will go away for some time. When he returns home, then walks over to Tietze Park, I imagine he might sit beneath a tree, now maybe with his own Hudson, and begin to tell the little person how the toddler park came to be.

C – imagining Linds already sees all this