Multiple sclerosis has a way of messing with one’s head. Whether it’s emotional or psychiatric disorders, fatigue, brain fog, or physical problems, there’s a lot to wrestle with. And to effectively battle this disease requires you to be in a certain state of mind. Let me give you a visual example.
Last weekend, the kiddos and I were out running errands and drove past a local park called Abernathy Greenway. It’s a slim slip of land just off a main road, nestled up against a neighborhood. I figured it’d be a good way to let the littles run off some of their pent-up energy (and get mom, the MS patient, some much-needed sunshine). So, we pulled in and began our journey into hell.
At least that’s what I saw.
It all started innocently enough. Just look at that green space and flowers! Oh, and there’s a neat walking path made with paving stones. This is going to be lovely, I thought. Good on the city for creating such a great place for people to spend time outside with their kids.
And then we came to the swings or, as I call them, “The Vampiric Gateways of Dread.” Yes, there are chains and seats, the usual stuff of parks, but each of them is hanging from something that looks like it was ganked from Count Dracula’s Zen garden. According to the park’s creators, it is filled with “playable art” that “provides options … for active and passive recreation” and was designed by artists around the United States. But other than the swings, I didn’t see how anything else in the park resembled playground apparatuses.
The next stop on the trail of terror was a piece of equipment that is supposed to be a dragonfly. To me, however, it looked more like an Aztec temple, the kind where blood sacrifices took place. The handrails took a little menace off the thing, but that was about all it had going for it.
Next came the melting cages of doom, the only other item a kid could actually play on, but they were crooked as a politician and so hot it was hard to play on them for long.
Then we came to the one that undid me: the Ray Bradbury Rocks.
If you’ve never read “The Martian Chronicles,” I highly recommend it, especially the short story, “There Will Come Soft Rains.” This short piece chronicles the mechanical workings of an automated house, the last thing standing after a nuclear holocaust. Where are the people?
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