it'd be better to forget you, but i don't really want to

My house is so close to my neighbor’s that I can hear the sound of their phone ringing. I can hear the splash of their pool, the scent of the barbeque on the grill that makes my mouth taste like summer. Their driveway on the right and mine on the left are like parentheses around my house. I can feel the sense of community within this simple street. This is my home.
There is a gallery of noises that leak out of my house as you walk by. Pause at my doorstep for an hour and you will hear the intricacies of our valued composition. When our hearts begin to beat in melodic unison, smile, and feel our joy. And when there is tension in rising action that leads to a climax of bickering, walk out towards Swasey Park. That is where you will find resolution. Walk there, because when I long to transcend my family’s animosity, Swasey is where I walk for comfort.
As you stroll to the west end of my street, don’t forget to look up at the sky. If you stare too long, you begin to feel like you’re a part of it. If it is fall, then take a minute to crunch auburn leaves in your hands. Feel the kinetic energy as you surrender them back to earth. If it is winter, gather snow in your bare hands and hold it until it melts from your heat. During spring, as you venture towards the entrance of Swasey Parkway, notice the change in grass. It was dormant not too long ago, iced by winter’s breath. Now it is green, lively, and swaying in liberation. Walk on it with your shoes off, and feel it tickle in between your toes. When it is summer lay down next to a tree. Make it so half your body is embellished by the sun’s bright rays. Put the other half in the shade. Feel the contrast in your body. Feel the satisfaction. Close your eyes to the lullaby of the wind pressing against your ear.
Here, in Swasey, bliss is found in every child. There is the girl that is hanging a kite off the clouds in the sky, and the boy that is riding his scooter up and down the sidewalk. There is innocence in their smile and a unique sort of wisdom in their eyes. This bliss can’t be found anywhere else. There is the elderly man and woman sitting on the bench in silence. They have insight to the young, innocuous teenagers cuddling in the grass. There is the old birch that as a young child I would climb up and down. I would tease my mother, climbing one branch higher, as she called me back to the ground. Now it is roped off with caution tape. It is fragile, and withering away. I pity the young generation that does not get to experience the retaliation of climbing higher and higher.
There is the pavilion in the center of the park. It waits all year for the summer concerts to begin and the annual Peace Day Festival to arrive. Children climb onto it and begin dancing as if the vast green in front of them is full of audience. This is where family pictures are taken. It is a landmark of our town.
Walk up and down and look to your side, a body of the euphoric Squamscott River. Allow your mind to jump in, washing away despair.
Grow in this park as I have. Feel the love.