Then and Now at Eucalyptus Park
I’ve been in Spring Valley, California today, making quick, drive-by visits to the childhood homes and elementary schools that used to be mine here. Time and distance have created fewer changes than I had expected. Hector’s Taco Shop, the (somehow still operational) Foster’s Freeze, and 7 Eleven are on Elkelton Blvd as they used to be. The 936 bus is stuck in the same infinity loop. Watching from my car, I see a younger me pull the yellow cord to stop the bus, and walk a few blocks to my grandmother’s house. I wonder, did I ever hop off that bus as a historic passenger watched, thankful to parallel its route, and to not be trapped in its cycle?
After catching a glimpse of my grandma’s old place, I head to Eucalyptus Park: a former favorite. I habitually pull up directions on my phone, but after nearly twenty years, I know exactly how to get there. The many childhood visits etched and stowed away an internal map. As if walking through a house and turning on its lights, each turn illuminates the next, and the map is restored. I’m here! Last time I was here was on a school trip, visiting the park with Avondale Elementary's other 5th graders. On that school trip another ten year old girl taught me how to crochet yarn using my fingers. I don’t remember the skill, but I do remember feeling happiness and relief to be included in the crochet tutorial.
Being here is like opening a time capsule. The park still has its Red Rover-ready grassy field, and is shaded by the same Eucalypti that have earned the park's name. The lower playground still has its plastic, blue-green, and Barney-the-Dinosaur-purple slides, sitting atop an uneven layer of wood chips. That playground felt much bigger last time I was here. The upper playground had a tattered swing set and a tall metal, “big kid” slide. It’s not there anymore. Maybe too many sunny-day-induced burnt bottoms.
The Western perimeter of Eucalyptus Park is outlined by a shallow creek. It creates a natural border between the grass and the parking lot; crossing a small bridge is required for entry. I have bits and pieces of distant memories of crawdad fishing in this creek. My brother and I would craft makeshift fishing poles from sticks we’d find around the park. We used yarn as fishing line and chewed gum as bait. I have no clue how we came up with the method, and even less clarity as to how it worked, but sure enough, we’d catch the critters with our Juicy Fruit bait, and put them in a temporary bucket home. Child scientists we were, observing and pondering over the crayfish specimen through their stress, confusion, and sweet release back to the creek.
I hold another far away memory of my brother catching a water bug in a red, plastic cup. He entices me with a suspicious "Look over here, Emma," shows me the living contents of his cup, and I bolt. I run towards the safety of the plastic jungle gym, hurdling over a downed Eucalyptus on the way. That tree is still here, being used by park-going toddlers as a bench, just like I used to do! A few of the same water bugs are wiggling across the creek right now, but today I’m not concerned in the slightest.
I can also see my mom scolding my brother as we leave the park on one of our long-ago visits. Why, I’m not sure, though her angry, tired mom face and his shameful pout are captured like a polaroid in the recently opened time capsule, our black Station Wagon as a backdrop. I came to birthday parties here, ate hotdogs made from the park provided grills. Styrofoam plates fill trash cans and assaulted piñatas leave behind sugary delicacies for me and my young friends.
Some things change slowly. Eucalyptus Trees grow for a while and eventually become natural park benches. Fear of water bugs and other creepy crawlers can be overcome with years of practice. Some things change drastically overnight. I use my cell phone to get here. I leave Spring Valley and travel back to my new home in Northern California. Metal slides disappear. Some things never change. Parks remain full of carefree kids. I experienced joy playing here as a child, and feel joy here now, watching the kids from the sidelines and scribbling about them in my journal.
