Here I am, sitting in my hotel room waiting for my sister to text me that she’s ready to go over to my parents house. I love the view out my window. It’s of Webb Park – green grass, huge pond with all kinds of unafraid ducks, rocks to climb, giant trees. And as I gaze out to it, it seems smaller than the park of my youth. I remember walking to it, which seemed to take forever, but I was always rewarded with a trip to the library and fun around the park. Now the library has moved to a larger location, some rocks have been removed so you can’t cut across the pond while pretending to fight off some imaginary foe. Although you were never able to make it to the small island in the middle, the little bird sanctuary. Now I see a father and son walking along the path, the boy chasing the birds that don’t really seem like they want to move. A girl practicing dance moves in an alcove in front of the pond with her mother videoing it from her phone. Then they sit down and review it. The girl gets up and again goes through the moves with her sweatshirt hood swaying and her scarf prancing along as her hands move it around. There goes a couple walking down the sidewalk, and I wonder why they are not holding hands. It would be so much more picturesque. And I wonder again if the city made the park smaller.

I’ll be going home today, back to the warmth of Phoenix. But I’ll be saying goodbye to my grandma who has been living with my for almost the past six months. And I have the feeling that I will be feeling very sad to not have her around. Although she is 91 and I am blessed that she has been with us for so long, I feel that she knows she might not be around for much longer. She talks how she won’t make it to my sister’s wedding which is just a year and a few months away. And I wish that I could take her back home with me. But I know she needs to be around her sister. And that she has missed her horribly. In some ways, she represents my childhood because she took care of me while my parents worked. And I don’t want to leave it behind.