Personal Yummy #90
I take a leisurely walk to New York City’s Carl Schurz Park on a Saturday afternoon in August.
What a gorgeous day.
It is hot and sunny…dry and breezy.
I have been to this Upper East Side park—lining the East River—many, many times in the past, but today I am in an exploratory mood and decide to follow a slightly different route.
And it is so worth it.
I walk down an abundance of stone steps that I have never encountered before, and—at the bottom of them—I discover an absolutely beautiful courtyard-like area, set below ground level.
And there is more abundance… Abundant flowers. Abundant leaves. Abundant grass. Abundant trees. Abundant sunshine.
Lots of colors, shades of green, roses, hydrangeas, stones, and bricks…
Plus, in the center of this circular dreamworld, there is a bronze statue situated upon a hexagonal stone cutout, upon a much larger round base, with a plethora of vibrant, overgrown flower bushes and plants surrounding it.
At first I think it is a statue of a young girl with a sailor’s hat. But with a bit more focus, I realize that it is actually a young boy with a feathered cap.
Seated, a tree stump holds his weight. His bent right leg is cradled in his left hand, as he slightly twists his upper body to the right, and gazes downward, perhaps at the shy-looking fawn who is hiding behind the stump. At the bottom of the stump rests a medium-sized rabbit, as well as a small toad near the boy’s left foot.
Who is this? I ask myself a few times. Who is this?
I walk closer and study him a bit more.
Still unsure, I take a seat on one of the freshly painted green benches outlining the courtyard. I, too, am now drenched in sunlight and surrounded by tall trees and colorful flowers.
So I sit there quietly for a while, enjoying the lush, serene environment, a kind of meditation, simultaneously soothing and rejuvenating.
I don’t know how much time passes, but a family of four—father, mother, and two little boys—seems to appear out of nowhere.
And the one little boy—he just can’t wait any longer—jumps on his skateboard and proceeds to race around and around the statue, with unlimited courage and abandon, gaining speed with each rotation.
The other little boy, who appears to be of a different temperament, is making his way around the statue, too, but his brown-spotted dog is accompanying him. The tiny dog is most likely a puppy, given that he is so agile and lively, pulling quite hard on his leash in his effort to explore the maze of vegetation around the statue, joyfully darting in and out of it.
In he goes one time—hidden for a moment—and then out he comes, his mouth stretched and gripping a green tennis ball, partly covered in brush and weeds.
The little boy bursts into a laugh, and then he looks at me. “He’s a good smeller,” he says, his pride apparent.
Looking into the eyes of this little boy, I now know, suddenly, who the statue is.
Of course it is Peter Pan, the boy who never grew up.
No wonder these two playful boys—and their eager and curious puppy—are so drawn to him.
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