A Red Line train snakes through the bushes in the distance. It looks like it is floating on air. In a small dog run at Ronan Park, Dixie and Daisy are romping while their owner watches. She is from Cape Verde, like scores of families who live here. A mother herself, she and her husband are planning a trip to Cancun with their 9-year-old daughter, who has never been. She talks of her travels and her love for the dog park, a gem that features a safe play area and a doggy water fountain that looks like a fire hydrant. Spring has faded without problems at Ronan Park, a massive green expanse with a well-used baseball diamond and a view that feels close to heaven. A group has formed for the park’s upkeep, organizing movie nights and periodic cleanups. The park has come a long way since the days when it was a haven for attacks. But despite its transformation, old fears are rooted here. As Dixie and Daisy play with my dog Q, the woman exclaims in a breathless whisper, seemingly out of the blue: “Thank God you are here. This is a nice park and all, but sometimes I think I might see a body in these bushes.”
Meghan E. IronsMeghan Irons can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. Follow her on Twitter @meghanirons.