Children Park, Woodside

 As usual, I sat on a colorful bench with a few other parents while my daughter played cheerfully under a shady tree with their children. Despite the kids’ lively laughter, a certain egocentric tone seemed to rule their conversations. The atmosphere was vibrant, filled with babbling, giggling, and bursts of crackling. Parents talked about the relentless passage of time, soon to force them indoors for months and leave the park deserted. Although the park isn’t as beautiful as it was in spring, when it wore its natural ornaments, it still remained crowded and full of life.

The park is well fenced, painted black, with sturdy gates opening to the south and east. To the north lies buzzing Broadway, and to the south, 37th Street, both meeting near the park’s western edge and amplifying the constant noise. In many ways, it feels like just another city park. Still, it is well maintained, thoughtfully divided with slides and swings of different sizes. The toddler area is cushioned with black rubber flooring, and every structure—from swings to slides—seems carefully designed for children’s safety.

Yet, not far from the joyous crowd of children, three weary men lingered on a few worn-out benches beside the basketball court. They appeared homeless. Throughout my time there, no one approached them. Even the children avoided the area, with parents subtly positioning themselves as barriers to keep little ones away. The men looked tired of carrying life’s burdens, as though they had given up on rising again. Their identities seemed buried beneath greasy, unkempt hair, their only companions perhaps memories and silent prayers, for they spoke no words. I quietly wished them strength and offered a brief prayer before turning back to my daughter.

This county, as is well known, is among the most multicultural in the world, home to people from more than a hundred ethnic backgrounds and speakers of over 165 languages. Hearing so many tongues within a single hour adds to the park’s uniqueness, and it is fascinating to see friendships form through shared languages and cultural ties.

After an hour and a half, my daughter looked exhausted from running and playing. With the hum of traffic still around us, I led her to the small water fountain, washed her hands, and reminded her to wave goodbye to her playmates, as is the park’s gentle custom.