I am cloistered in dusty pink azaleas and magenta Japanese maples, only minutes from the spark of clarity I need. I’ve felt stuck, lately. I feel stopped in a holding pattern, ever hovering without resolution. Over time, I’ve learned a change of routine and scenery can electrify creativity. I decided to take the risk. Relocating my walking routine downtown, I start the day with eyes, heart, and mind wide open.
The morning breeze holds on a little longer while I luxuriate in the garden oasis of the Curate Essentials porch. Jasmine mingles with my lavender latte. Clicking through the company site, I learn this building housed military families during World War II. Feet away from herbs growing lush in garden boxes, I wonder if families planted a Victory Garden here, the World War II wartime practice meant to free up agricultural resources. I think of my grandfather, a munitions driver in multiple wars and of my grandmother accepting his retirement-time proposal, a man 20 years her senior. I remember the hot sun warming the top of my head as she would round her hands around backyard tomatoes, pressing and turning them for signs to pluck. As the morning heats up, my mind slows down. I am ready to begin my walk.
I park and make my way to Freedom Memorial Park at 111 Bragg Blvd., a downtown gateway. The park site informs viewers of its purpose to “reflect on the lives of the Fallen and remember their service to our country.” The park heralds specific names. I sit for a moment at the Vietnam Memorial. Reading the names, I slow in solemnity amid bustling downtown streets. Cars pass, business continues. In the quiet, I consider how many families in Fayetteville still feel the silent loss of names carved here.
In the same spirit, I walk across the street toward the North Carolina Veterans Memorial Park at 300 Bragg Blvd., near the U.S. Army Airborne & Special Operations Museum. Locating the entrance, I walk in beneath a cathedral chorus of chirping birds above me, intermingling with quiet engines on the road. Turning, I am met with dark stone pillars and mirrors, covered in casts of hands raised signifying the no-turn-back moment of a service member and family’s story: the swearing-in. From signs, I learn this memorial holds soil from all of North Carolina’s 100 counties.
Weaving between these pillars, rushing water grows louder. The words “Commitment,” “Honor,” and “Sacrifice,” come into view. Among the sculptures, gentle-rolling fountains contrast against the rivets, stone, and metal. One can’t help but feel this is a place to mark pivotal beginnings and endings, a place to decide, remember, and reflect. Walking through the “Service Grotto,” I find myself surrounded by translucent blue sheets of water, trickling over the words of the Constitution preamble on the left and the face of a star-composed service member on the right. The shade and soothing sounds, the sign says, symbolize, “respite from the heat, excitement and chaos” of service life. I next arrive at the park’s center, to looming steel and stone. In the middle reads a quote from the Liberty Point Resolve from June 20, 1775: “We shall go forth and be ready to sacrifice our lives and fortunes to secure her freedom and safety.” The larger-than-life steel stars mirror viewers’ reflections, compelling them to consider their place within this legacy.
Maneuvering to a boardwalk, I nestle onto a smooth wooden bench. Leaves shelter me from the rays. Wind whisks across the pond. Two pigeons coo and rustle in the grass near the water and reeds. A willow slowly weeps. I take in the details of this contemplative oasis. I sought sparkling inspiration, a jolt of electricity to jumpstart my creative battery. Instead, I found within a burning ember and slow-burning coals fueled by history.
After circling the grounds, I trek back past the museum grounds to my car on Hay Street and pass the sprawling, centuries-worn, live oak. Starting the ignition back into daily life, I hold an adage in mind that some attribute to French preacher Hyacinthe Loyson: “Blessed are those who plant trees under whose shade they will never sit.”
Read CityView Magazine’s “The Downtown Issue” June e-edition here.
Beautifully written. Enjoyed the history.