4 April 2023 – I’m cutting through Hinge Park — 2.3 acres of naturalized wetland just off South East False Creek, which was created from former industrial land (a City Works site) as part of urban redevelopment prior to the 2010 Winter Games.

As always, I detour to take in the playful tunnel bridge across a swampy creek, its sewer-pipe construction referencing either a submarine (we’re near water) or perhaps a steam engine (we’re also near former railway yards).

Whichever, who cares? It’s delightful, and the generous cut-outs in the pipe invite you to come on in, and look around.

So I do.

A little boy comes barrelling past, bouncing from side to side and calling encouragement to his sister somewhere behind me. “Like this!” he cries. “Jump like this!” He takes a last hop, and scampers up the stone steps beyond.

I step out of the way, and offer my own encouragement to the little girl. “Show him how it’s done!”

She grins, and flies into action.

Bounce left!

Bounce right!

Bounce up those steps!

I walk on home. It’s a complete vignette, just like that. Two children, whooping their way through a tunnel.

But it stirs memory, and I leaf my old year-books ’til I find the reference.

And there it is: 17 September 2013. A whole decade ago, and that other tunnel, that other child, still dance in memory.

Reaction? We see reaction.

We stand and watch a little boy bounce his way the entire length of the tunnel, shouting with delight as he goes, his footsteps and his voice echoing, his amused parents waiting patiently at the far end.

Yup. Choose your decade, it doesn’t change. Kids & tunnels & echoes & all that bouncing energy.