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Taking Summer Back

March 19, 2012

The hot weather has rolled around again. Gone are the snow-blanketed fields in the park, and the unsafe, icy trails. It’s time to bust out your roller-blades and your camping gear. At least, it usually is for me but this year I’m unsure if I’ll be able to enjoy the same activities like I used to. It seems this year there are legions more of tacky yellow strollers and young kids wobbling around, making it difficult to ride my bike with my dog attached through our neighbourhood–which is decidedly the Baby-Land of Toronto. It is the family neighbourhood with the best schools, hockey teams and community centres in the city for affluent families. These rich and connected folk go as far to section off roads so their children can play street hockey.

I moved into my neighbourhood because I was enticed by the serene trails and the cute little French patisseries lining the hilly avenues. It is a central location–I’m close to downtown and the trendy Queen Street bars and art shops I love, but it doesn’t take long to hit up Scarborough, North York or the West End either. I love living next to a huge, sprawling park and being able to get to work in about 20 minutes. But having my area cater to little kids makes me feel like I need to reign in and work around the schedules of baseball and soccer games in the parks as well as the strollers that attack the sidewalks and Don’t. Move. Ever.

Last summer, I ranted and sulked about the unfairness of the usage of the neighbourhood parks and trails but this year I’m going to take summer back. I’m young, and we live once and I’m not going to sit home miserable. Just because new mothers think their offspring is the whole universe doesn’t mean the whole universe has to cater to them. I would like to enjoy activities that don’t include the words “mini” or “junior” and I’d like to do so without parents chewing me out. I just don’t care. And I won’t care. Not this year. When that sun is out, I’m going to be there with my dogs and my bike, or my roller blades, or my picnic blanket and my book. I’m going to go on the trail and I’m NOT going to move aside for the droves of fathers who are desperate to spend an hour outside with their monkeys on the weekend because they work so hard during the week.

It’s summer and summer was intended for beers on the patio. Festivals with flags and colour. Long nights you may not necessarily remember the next day. Music. Seashells. Maple trees and roasting marshmallows on open fire. Muddy jeans. Tousled hair. Beaches. Parties. Fun.


From → My CF Life

One Comment
  1. Sounds like absolute heaven to me!

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