Earlier today I went for a walk, reluctant, but intent on enjoying the path all to my own. As expected, my usual route was empty, until I reached the somewhat hidden park I walk by each time. Frequently, I’ll take a moment to stretch, and if it’s a day with quite a bit on my mind, I tend to pause for a few minutes, resting on the small playground.

This late afternoon I decided to walk to the top of the hill before pausing and on my way down noticed a man sitting at the edge of the wood platform. His feet dangling, I followed his gaze toward the tiny creek on the other side of the grass. As I passed by I saw a Harley, tucked in and off the path. While I was contemplating how often someone rode their bike down the steep hill, a woman jogged up the path to the park and stopped by a picnic bench. After retying her shoes she jogged in place for a moment, then rested on top of the bench.

I considered heading home, as I was used to enjoying the park without company. Instead, I climbed the bright blue ladder to the top of the playground, and sat down on the opposite end from the man. He looked to be my age, perhaps in his younger twenties, as I’m not one for pinpointing ages very well. The women also seemed as young at first, with the glowing skin and fit body, but a few glances later I noticed her laugh lines and gathered late thirties, early forties.

During the silence in between my music I heard a faint sound which had been absent on my walks the recent few weeks. With the headphones then removed, I enjoyed one of my favorites, a number of frogs echoing from the creek waters. As I leaned my cheek against the cool metal bars, I smiled and tried to warm my nose, already cold in the brisk evening air.

For five or ten minutes the three of us remained on the fixtures, myself and the young man slowly swinging our legs. My silent companions seemed content, subtle smiles across their faces. Eventually I stopped looking at them and followed the small trickle of the creek until it went under the cement bridge I crossed earlier. Such a peaceful landscape, tucked below street level, surrounded by homes and paved roads. The Harley seemed out of place in the hidden grassy and child’s play areas, though I understood the need to enjoy, be engulfed.

Eventually the platform vibrated as the young man jumped off into the sand and walked to his bike. He zipped up his jacket, looked in our direction and quietly said “Happy Thanksgiving” with a shrug. As he prepared to leave, the woman and I nodded our heads and gave partial smiles. When the man started his Harley, the sudden noise seemed harsh in the surroundings, yet I sucked it in with a short gasp only I could hear.

The Harley and his rider slowly rolled up the hill and hesitated at the top, pulled onto the sidewalk and into the main street. Once the bike was out of site, the woman then stood, adjusted her shoes again and tightened her ponytail. She glanced in my direction, said “Enjoy your day” and as I murmured “Likewise”, she zipped up her jacket and started jogging in a slow pace down the main path. Her figure remained longer than the sound of crunching leaves, though eventually faded from my myopic sight.

I sat for a few moments longer and closed my eyes. As I attempted to follow each group of frogs, tilting my face in their direction, I started laughing at myself. Thrilled with my mood change I pulled myself upright. I walked along the platform to the stairs, grinning as the wind blew against my dry skin and stray hairs. After climbing down, I grabbed a metal bar from underneath, swung once and giggled.

Out of the play area, I readied my MP3 player, checked my pocket for keys and my cell phone for the time and walked along the path toward home. As I enjoyed the walk home, I rubbed my bare arms to stay warm yet wlecomed the chill. The sun had set a while ago and though it left the blue sky rimmed with an orange-yellow glow, all warmth had disappeared. Few cars were on the road as I turned home; I was thankful for the time to myself even though I hadn’t been alone.