I have lived my whole life in Upper Arlington on the same street in the same house surrounded by generally the same people. This monotony annoyed me growing up, but in the last few months of high school, I realized that it provided me with many things, like the consistent five-minute walk from my house to Thompson Park. Thompson Park is connected to so many of my childhood stories and as I walk around the loop of the park almost every day with my dog Chewy, I like to reminisce about all the memories I made at the park. 

I like to start my walks by the Lane Road Library where I first found my appreciation for books. Despite grappling with dyslexia throughout my childhood, the supportive librarians transformed the library into a safe space. Memories rush back as I stroll past the familiar building, recalling endless summer days spent immersed in books alongside my sister because truthfully, I took the summer reading program way too seriously. Continuing along the path, I walk alongside the hill where snow days were spent sledding with my siblings, while laughter echoed through the wintery air. Then, I approach the tennis courts where a tennis lesson ended abruptly, one black eye later, and tennis and I agreed to part ways. Progressing towards the middle of the park, to the main shelter house, I remember spending endless hours at summer camp within the shelter house wondering if my summer sunburns would ever fade. Next, I stroll past the newly renovated playground and reminisce about the old swing set where I spent years convinced by my sister that if I could just swing a little higher, I would be able to touch the tree branches. Continuing on the path I pass the park baseball fields, and memories of hot Saturdays watching my younger brother’s baseball games where he was more interested in finding rocks than participating in the game fill my mind. I then follow the paved path to the soccer fields where I had my very first soccer practice and decided then and there that soccer would be the only sport I would ever want to play. 

Finally, I reach my favorite part of the park and see my tree. Well, maybe not “my tree,” but the tree that was assigned to me in third grade at Windermere. We did a project studying tree cycles, so, although I consider it “my tree,” it is also claimed by countless other Windermere third graders. In my head, it will always be “my tree.” It’s a little off the main path and is the most beautiful tree in the whole park, which is obviously a fact and not my opinion. Every time I pass my tree, I get to witness the subtle but beautiful changes throughout the years. I like to believe that we have grown together. I have witnessed every season with my tree for the last nine years, and I swear it kept me sane during COVID when everything felt like it was on pause. Being able to witness something grow and change every day even in the smallest ways reminded me that I was still moving forward and growing even when it didn’t feel like it. Through the years I have witnessed bird nests, squirrel nests, falling branches, dying leaves, and buds that turn into flowers. I have gotten to see my tree experience change and make it through each season and year stronger while learning to adapt and thrive. My tree grounds me and gives me hope for the next chapter of my life. So, as I finish my walk past my tree and all the memories Thompson Park helped me make, I am full of gratitude for the park and the community that keeps it alive.