A Garden

Yet another writing for class, about a garden where it didn't belong.

Sun pounds down on the hot pavement, its rays saturating the cement with latent heat. As I walk down the street, beads of sweat drip down my face. Noise surrounds me, people shouting, cars humming, it is infused into the very air. Up and down we trudge on those gum-covered streets, backpacks heavy on our shoulders, faces getting redder with each step. It is time for a rest and we all know it.  A little way up from the People’s Church of Chicago we stop, sitting on the concrete base of a black fence. In front of me is a food pantry, hand-painted signs in the windows advertising new deals and discounts. I lean back against the tall, cool, metal poles and let my backpack slip to the ground, enjoying the time to relax, as I knew it was going to be brief.  I watch the people walk by, sun-tinted skin glistening with sweat as they trudged down the street, different races, different colors blending together until they all become a blur. Slowly, I turned, my gaze shifting to behind me. There, on the corner of this busy, run-down street was a perfect Japanese garden. The neatly manicured lawn was framed by tiny, intricately sculpted boxwoods. It was a kekureba of sorts, a private sanctuary away from the world outside. The pristinely raked gravel paths beckoned invitingly.

 “Come escape.” They called, “Leave this boulevard of broken dreams, come wander among the stone lanterns and waterfalls in this land of make-believe.”

A koi pond sat in the middle of this paradise, the scales of the fish glinting in the sun as they swam, body’s wriggling in water as they sparkled. “Come escape.” They called, “Leave this boulevard of broken dreams, come wander among the stone lanterns and waterfalls in this land of make-believe.”

My eyes traveled further down the winding path to spot a Buddha statue in the corner, nestled between two shrubs, eyes closed in silent meditation. “Come escape.” he calls, “Leave this boulevard of broken dreams, come wander among the stone lanterns and waterfalls in this land of make-believe. This could be paradise.”

The scene before me was so peaceful, so serene. It didn’t belong on this boulevard of broken dreams, a place of violence and gangs, of heartbreak and loss.  It didn’t belong in Uptown. As soon as I realized that, I was back on the gum-covered streets again, back in the stifling heat. I looked around and saw the aged buildings, the neon sign hanging in the window of the food pantry, proclaiming it to be open. I watched as people walked out of it, bags laden with purchases and a Sesame Street song came to mind. “One of these things is not like the others, one of these things just doesn’t belong…” The garden was not like everything else on the street, as nice as it was, the garden didn’t belong. As people walked by it, Hispanic, African, Asian, I could see that they belonged there, that it was their neighborhood. The garden was not a part of the neighborhood; it was added by an individual and it didn’t fit. “One of these things is not like the others, one of these things just doesn’t belong…”

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Gentrification is a major problem in Uptown. Uptown is a very diverse area in Chicago that contains people from all over the world and from all different financial backgrounds. However, with diversity comes problems.  Due to the wide range of incomes in Uptown, some of its residents can’t afford luxury housing and have to live in subsidized apartments while others live behind large fences in beautiful houses with extravagant gardens. Even in the lower class areas of Uptown, you are starting to see the second type of people move in and claim it as their own, chasing out the residents who don’t have enough money to pay the rising rent and leaving them with nowhere to go, also known as gentrification. When I saw this garden on the corner of Broadway and West Lawrence, it immediately struck me as something that didn’t belong there. Even on a street where there were people of every different race, ethnicity, and color, it didn’t belong.

 

 

Author's Note

What do you think? Anything I can change/improve?

Reviews

[Legolas]

Wonderful job. It is very insightful and full of meaning. Your words flow very very well. Great job! Gentrification is a very big problem.

[Isabelle Faye]

Thanks...it really is a big problem.