I drove down I-95 today to the park where my mother grew up, and where my older brother visited two years prior. As I walked around the park, I couldn’t help but wonder about the relativity of things. Here I was, seeing the park as I am seeing it. The other people in the park see about the same things as well, but in a lens that I don’t even see.
But, I wondered: what if I could go back and see the park twenty years before my mother was born? How about one hundred years? It’s fascinating how for every place, there was life before we ever thought of it. Just like when I go walk at cemeteries, I wish I could go back in time and ask those before on what things were like. In this event, I wish I could see it.
As I left the park, I couldn’t help but wonder: to those who come to the park after me, irrespective of time, I’m just a ghost. I guess that’s how things are.
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