My Special Place

There is a small, narrow park not far from my home. A road with palatial houses and wide front porches frames this strip of green. In certain places, I can walk into the park and the magnolias and beech trees block out the homes so that I feel I’m in a secluded woodland. 

Halfway down the park is a path that leads to the other side of the park: a road and more large homes. One needs to walk over the concrete bridge. Under the bridge babbles a brook. Recently, we had a lot of rain, so this morning, as I leaned on the wooden railing, the water bubbled over the rocks and swirled under the bridge. Surprisingly few cars drove by so I could clearly hear the brook and the birds. A sweet moment of contemplation.  

The Bridge
To the right
To the left

After my recent trip to New York City, where my friend, Lois, and I spent a whole day wandering through the sprawling landscape in Central Park, I cherish my spot of grass, trees and brook. A patch of nature to refresh my soul. 

By Marianna Crane

After a long career in nursing--I was one of the first certified gerontological nurse practitioners--I am now a writer. My writings center around patients I have had over the years that continue to haunt my memory unless I record their stories. In addition, I write about growing older, confronting ageism, creativity and food. My memoir, "Stories from the Tenth Floor Clinic: A Nurse Practitioner Remembers" is available where ever books are sold.

4 comments

  1. Lovely, Mariana. I call this ‘forest bathing.’ It leaves you feeling peaceful and refreshed, which we all need, especially in this difficult time we’re living through.

    Like

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