Overgrown weeds, piles of dirt, vines creeping over what remains of nearby trees, and the relentless roar of traffic were the first things that greeted me after more than twenty years away from the place that gave me some of the happiest moments of my childhood: the Big Low Family Center, located in the heart of my hometown, San Diego, Venezuela. It stood right beside the city's bus terminal, the gateway for everyone arriving in the region, and for those of us who grew up here, it became an unforgettable part of childhood. Almost everyone under the age of thirty five remembers it with the same mixture of affection and nostalgia.
You know, it is heartbreaking to realize that time never waits for anyone. It is even harder to accept that the place where I laughed the most with my parents and my childhood friends has become little more than rust, abandonment, and silence. The younger generations walk past it without the slightest idea of what once stood there. It almost feels surreal. Yet standing in front of the original sign, which somehow has survived more than three decades after the park's golden years, was an invitation to nostalgia that I simply could not refuse.
Those years were extraordinary. The arcade machines filled with games like Street Fighter and Pac Man, the go karts where every child dreamed of becoming a racing driver for a few laps, and the excitement of shouting to our parents so they could watch us speeding around the circuit. But beyond the attractions, there is another memory that returned unexpectedly. I remembered seeing my mother and father dancing together on the dance floor, smiling without a care in the world. As strange as it sounds, I do not think I ever saw them share a moment like that again.
Without context, these photographs probably look like nothing more than an old, neglected sign standing in the middle of nowhere. Something vintage. Something forgotten. But they represent the end of an era, at least for me. My boyfriend, who knows me better than anyone else, understood why I had wanted to come back here for so many years. Photographing what remains of the entrance was my way of saying goodbye to a place that had once felt enormous, vibrant, and almost magical. Some places leave a mark that time simply cannot erase.
As a child, Big Low, as everyone called it, became far more than an amusement park. I have to admit that taking these photographs brought tears to my eyes. Perhaps that sounds strange if you never experienced this place yourself. But for the shy, introverted, lonely little girl I once was, this was my sanctuary. Every time I crossed the entrance you see throughout these photographs, my heart filled with excitement. It was never just a place to have fun. It was where I discovered my love for anime, certain video games, and those oversized milkshakes I still remember so vividly today. Coming back after all these years was painful, yet strangely comforting. It was wonderful to see you again, Big Low Family Center. You may have disappeared from the city, but you will always have a place in my memory.
All photographs and content used in this post are my own. Therefore, they have been used under my permission and are my property.
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