The Swings, The Goats, and The Grass

The Swings, The Goats, and The Grass

Victoria Martinez

9/27/22

We take so many things for granted. “Los amaré por siempre” I'd tell my grandparents- “I'll love you forever.” Be advised, this is not a sob story. It is a happy story- or so I’d like to believe. Within people’s recollections of life changing events, there is always a great majority of trauma. It is psychologically proven that people are more likely to remember these types of events- the ones that scar you. Yet, amongst all of it- tucked away in the crevices of my brain, under all the bad- there’s Amelia Earhart Park of Hialeah, Florida. There’s the jagged concrete pavement that leads you through the entrance with the wooden shed where they’d sell ice cream with a smile. Past the jagged pavement there’d be the dewy grass, stroked by Miami’s humidity like the rest of us. The grass- would gently intertwine with large ponds on both ends, where I’d spot the large plastic swans who gracefully carried passengers across, embracing the scenery. There was the sun: dissolving in that very water. Further through the trail, there were the competing main attractions: the welcoming yellow swing set and the barn with hungry goats waiting to wrap their arms around you. But most importantly, there were the hands, which like the grass, gently intertwined with mine. It was that of my grandparents, who held each other and my brother alike.
When I was anywhere from four to ten years old, sunny days were my favorite. This was not because I’d get to go to the beach, or hang out at my friends’ pools, it was because I knew I could walk to my grandparents house right down the street and ask them to take my brother and I to Amelia Earhart Park. To me, this was no ordinary park. It was my Disney Land. I was amazed when I would go, always like it was my first time. The magic did not root from its aforementioned beauty, or the unforgiving rocks they would let small children climb (for some reason), or even the goat feeding attraction that was probably the coolest thing in the world. The magic came from the laughs and infantile chats I would have with my grandparents, my brother, and on occasion, my two cousins. I may not have realized it at the time, but there was no material source of gratification like riding the swing sets or eating the Spongebob ice creams that could compare to the feeling of just sharing the moment with them. It was always them.
To have them by my side for so long is a blessing beyond words- Christ, it is enough reason to believe in God. I am so grateful to have grandparents that were there for me, gave my brother and I a sofa bed to do our sleepovers on, picked me up after school, framed my horrendous arts and crafts projects, and the list goes on. In a similar way, I am grateful for Amelia Earhart park to house such memorable moments. It was our sanctuary, our home away from home- for me and my grandparents alike. Within the walls of their home and the branches that hugged the park, I’ve had the privilege to share my life so closely with them.
Unfortunately, memories are the only things that last us forever. After you surpass a certain age, you stop counting such blessings. I sure did. I prioritized different things- the wrong things. As one naturally does, I had my phases where I was either “too cool” or “too busy” to appreciate my family the way I did when I was younger. What I could not see was the fortune I've had in this life compared to others. I did not account that we pertained to a culture where family meant everything- or nothing at all. Having a loving family is all I have ever known; I had the better end of the stick. Never was I able to look around and see “Fulanita” who grew up with a single mother and 2 siblings, or the boy in the back of the class whose grandmother passed away in 5th grade, or even my own father, who did not have the privilege of having a family he could call whole.
As time went by, there came the day where my grandparents no longer lived two houses away. They had moved only 20 minutes away, but to a child of 13 with no car, the motivation to see them withered away even more. This is something I shamefully have to admit, because if I weren't able to admit it to myself, I wouldn't value them how I do now, nor value the times we shared. I can remember how my brother, who is a year older than me, got his car and would always go visit them. He would insist I join, but again, my attention as a 15 year old was directed somewhere else. Time would pass, and Amelia Earhart Park, like my grandparents, would only come to me in memories. I never realized the gravity of my mistake, because I still saw them from time to time, on the occasional family birthday, a rare weekend, or some Christmases perhaps. I still did the bare minimum.
***
Our orbit seemed to stop in the spring of 2020, as most of the world shut down. By this time, there was no grocery shopping, no clubbing or partying, no Amelia Earhart park (which unfortunately did not matter to me by then), and no visiting my grandparents. In these months of reflection, with only time by oneself, loneliness was inevitable and life was desaturated. Yet, funnily enough, as much as I missed my friends and my social life, nothing could amount to the way I missed my grandparents. The thought of them kept the color in my graying life. But why did it matter? Why now? I hadn’t seen them in forever anyway. Right?
When I was younger, I could stay within the four walls of their home for weeks on end. It didn’t matter if the day was sunny or not, if we went to the park or not, because in their presence I found my comfort- my happiness and home. However, that specific summer, I could not stand reliving the same day in and out. The comfort of my bed was no match for that of their squeaky sofa bed that would hold me at night so many years ago. Although it once did, seeing them on facetime suddenly would not suffice. Visiting them with masks on while staying in my car felt like torture. Our hands could not intertwine how they once did. Like the memory of the swings, the goats, and the grass they were dissipating from my life and mind. Having that privilege ripped away from me finally made me realize how much they mattered. I finally saw the bigger picture- and it was so much larger than me. Fragments of my life seemed to all be leading up into this one, massive epiphany- somehow everything connected now. The thousand “llama tus abuelos” from my mom and the hundred “vicky come with me to visit them” from my brother finally sunk in. I had to do better for the sake of my family.
Eventually, within the normalcy of the year that came, I visited them a little more, then from 6 feet apart, then without a mask, until finally, I was able to give them a hug that was overdue for way more than just a year. I can remember my grandmother crying, releasing her frustration and pain into tears I could feel on my shoulders. My grandfather watched, awaiting his turn. I had never been more excited to tell someone about the most boring months of my life. That is what they brought out of me. I was like a child once again, babbling on about literally anything I could for the sake of just being able to talk to them.
We spend an eternity looking for a purpose- for something larger than life itself. I’ve had it next to me all along. I didn’t need a huge park to realize this, or ice cream, or swings,or goats, or shiny grass- I just needed them to be there. I realized over the years that they always were. All along, it has been me who tucked the beautiful memories away, and let other things in life take their place. It was never my intention to take them for granted, but I did. Being fully self aware now, I would never neglect my grandparents (or my family in general) the way that I have, knowing the gravity of their role in my life. And although there’s beauty in knowing memories of our times last forever, there’s value in knowing we as people don’t. I may have outgrown Amelia Earhart Park, but never will I be able to outgrow the people who raised me there: my grandparents. And so, in the eternity of my memories, alongside the swings and the goats and the grass and their hands with mine, will reside the love I have for them. Los amaré por siempre.