[Filling the Space is a flexible column where our writers could vent, deconstruct, and work their way around the emotions brought on by TV, films, books, music, and key moments in pop culture. This isn’t meant to be analytical, but instead, a means of bringing our voice into a space on the internet where there’s often too much going on—a way to step into the sphere.]
When very little makes sense and everything hurts, Parks and Recreation is the one piece of fiction I know I can always turn to. I’ve watched it in its entirety maybe five times now, with random episodes here and there like “Citizen Knope” every Christmas, and every time I fail to comprehend how a show can be this special. How it can find you at the right place and right time and continue to be the one thing that feels like the most irreplaceable blanket—something that’s always been with you. Something that’ll always stay.
You’d think that by now I would’ve found the right words to describe why the show means so much, but every time I try, words fail me. And these days, I’m starting to think that’s okay because there are only so many ways to say something is perfect to you. Because in every way, Parks and Recreation is perfect to me.
From each of the characters to the friendship and the romantic relationships, it feels like the kind of genuine escape that might actually be tangible as a reality again. And maybe that realism is part of it. I love fantasies and romances and shows with magic, but they’re the kind of escape that feels like an escape I know is largely fictional. In contrast, Parks feels like an escape that can be a reality. It has been a reality. We’ve had the type of hope this show evokes. These characters feel like people we know, and their stories feel grounded in a way that’s just…hopeful.
Even the theme feels triumphant and uplifting, and the type of music that, while I won’t listen to outside of the show, I can never press skip as I’m watching it. Mike Schur’s comedies have a way of always reaching deep into my soul, and I treasure everything he’s done, but I always think about how Parks and Recreation feels like the show that’s closest to my heart. The funniest part of it is that anything pertaining to the government gives me anxiety. It’s so far removed from what my own job is that it’s strange how deeply I relate to these characters. And that’s a testament to the writing because we aren’t our jobs.
As human beings, we’re so much bigger than what we do as a living, and the characters on this show are simply trying to be the best version of themselves possible. They’re trying—step by step, every day, with every new venture that allows them to grow in ways that are all around inspiring. All of this is to say, I started yet another rewatch, and it really is the cleansing balm that works every time. For thirty minutes, every little thing makes sense. For thirty minutes, I can believe in the fact that there’s magic in waffles, friendships, mini horses, romance, elections, and triumphant little towns like Pawnee. I can believe in the fact that there’s magic in the ordinary. And I’m so grateful.
Are you a fan of Parks and Recreation? What makes it so special for you? Let us know in the comments below.
First Featured Image Credit: ©NBC