Ah, San Diego! The land of bays, boats, tide pools, bougie resorts, and, most importantly, an escape from the scorching Texas sun that doesn’t involve an agonizing journey (my patience and sweet disposition immediately evaporate whenever I have a develop a sweat mustache). Every summer I embark on an adventure with my delightfully cynical daughter for a much-needed vacation. Fearlessly, I meticulously planned our summer trip to San Diego. We would explore the renowned landmarks—the world-famous zoo, the adorable seals of La Jolla, savor ice cream on the sandy shores of Coronado Beach, and leisurely wander through the alluring Balboa Gardens.
But hold on a moment! My daughter, with a resolute “Nope!” declared her dissent. Apparently, the garden stroll, immersed in the embrace of nature’s wonders, did not meet her criteria. “Does it have rides?” she questioned, hopeful for a more exhilarating experience. “No,” I retorted. “What about an arcade?” she persistently inquired. “I don’t think so.’” I declared.
Now, I fully acknowledge that the allure of the great outdoors may not rival the enchantment of a digital world where cows hold conversations and cats perform the tango. Yet, surely, it shouldn’t be this arduous. With a touch of resignation, we arrived at Balboa Park via a trusty bus. As her petite feet touched the pavement, she couldn’t help but inquire about our time commitment. “How long until we leave?” she queried. “I don’t know,” I replied, somewhat exasperated. “Can’t you just try to have fun?”
For those unacquainted with the magnificence of Balboa Park, situated in the rolling hills of San Diego, allow me to paint a picture for you. This expansive wonderland spans over 1,200 acres, housing a cornucopia of attractions that include museums, gardens, and the world-famous San Diego Zoo.
Undeterred by my daughter’s initial disinterest, I valiantly attempted to extract some semblance of excitement as we meandered through the park, exploring countless ponds, gardens, and even an inviting atrium. Alas, my efforts were in vain. Eventually, I surrendered to the defeat, and we reluctantly retraced our steps back to the zoo, where we could conveniently catch a bus homeward.
However, fate had something unexpected in store for us on our departure. Serendipity led us to chance upon a Japanese Garden. My daughter’s countenance, filled with gloom, threatened to cast a shadow over this fortuitous encounter. But how could I, an ardent admirer of Japanese gardens since crushing on Ralph Macchio during “sand the floor” let this opportunity pass? No, I would not! And so, we embarked on another garden adventure.
Within those captivating surroundings, something magical transpired. My daughter’s complaints ceased, replaced by an exuberant display of enthusiasm as she guided me through the garden’s wondrous exhibits. And then, at the Tea Garden, nestled beside a mesmerizing Koi Pond, a solitary red dragonfly captured our attention. Time seemed to stand still as we stood there, statuesque, fearful that even the slightest breath might scare away this delicate creature. Finally, the dragonfly took flight, and my daughter’s wide-eyed wonder reveled in its ethereal beauty. “I looked like a helicopter!” she beamed, her joy infectious.
As the day drew to a close, we decided to eat at a quaint deli nestled near the garden. My daughter contentedly nibbled on her sandwich, while I pondered the perplexing challenge of how to open the petite size bottle of wine chilling in the hotel fridge armed with only a fork. At that moment, my daughter uttered words I never thought I’d hear: “You know, gardens aren’t so bad after all.”
“Really?” I questioned, taken aback by this revelation.
“Yes,” she conceded. “Although, they would be even better if I had a friend to play around with. But today was okay, I guess.”
In that contemplative instant, my thoughts wandered to my grandmother and the countless occasions she had whisked me reluctantly to local nurseries, botanical gardens, or even a neighbor’s backyard, forcing me to appreciate the splendor of nature’s wonders. I wondered as I smiled at my daughter if most indoctrinations require a little push.
