"Hillcrest Park opens at dawn and closes at 10 p.m., but for me, it has never been just a set of hours on a sign. I have walked this park in every light and season. Morning walks before the neighborhood stirs. Afternoon strolls when working from home. Evening circuits after dinner on weekdays. Weekend doubles, morning and evening both. And those in-between moments when restlessness or boredom sends me out the door once more. I know this place intimately."
"The park has changed alongside me. When I first arrived, the entrance opened onto a flat grass lawn with an unobstructed view. Then the city council planted trees and installed a statue. Those saplings are 15 years old now, their green canopies arching over the tarred trail to welcome me. I resisted them at first, mourning that open vista. But time has a way of softening resistance into appreciation."
"When I round the first corner in the evening, the lowering sun turns those leaves to shimmering gold. On windy days, they dance in perfect tandem, as if choreographed to lift my spirits. At night, I've learned to dodge the sprinklers; some spray directly onto the path. I watch the water arc through the darkness with the same curiosity I might bring to a fountain show, mesmerized by the force and geometry of it."
Hillcrest Park functions as a daily, half-mile loop that has accompanied twenty-five years of routine walks at dawn, afternoon, evening and weekends. Familiarity with the park brings comfort, curiosity and joy rather than contempt. The park landscape evolved from an open lawn to one shaded by fifteen-year-old saplings and a statue, shifting the view and prompting newfound appreciation. Evening light turns leaves to gold and wind animates the canopy. Nighttime sprinklers arc across paths, creating moments of wonder. Wildlife appears regularly: occasional deer, silhouetted seagulls and noisy flocks of bluebirds that scatter and return.
Read at The Mercury News
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