old stomping grounds

Warm day on Sunday, took a stroll with the husband and the youngest to Manor Park. My childhood years going to this same park blend in with memories of my children at various ages teetering on the rocks and running across the ledges while I call out a warning; the adults walking on the sedate lawns, the usual route from one gazebo to the next, now a bit gingerly, the careful footing on the rocks I used to gazelle across. The way memories shift and blend is kindred to water on rocks, variations on a theme both familiar and unfathomable, on a sunny Sunday with a mind to get the scent of salt water and a handful of sunlight.