She often sat on this bench. The wood was old, the paint faded, but it fit here. In this park it was one of the oldest things here but somehow it had survived three high school keg parties, two mayoral renovation campanes, and countless couples breaking up and making up. It had stayed. She liked to sit here were you could only just barley make out the houses from the trees because of how they seemed to have grown together. She liked the open feild which despite the space never seemed to have a lot of sporting events or large gatherings on it. And the trees. She liked the trees because they looked like the bench. They were like old friends who have taken on the likeness of the other and so you can never picture them not existing together.
Today was the kind of day She liked most of all. The grass was still green despite the fact that the temperature had started its decent. There were people around but they were sparse and unique like the candy you find when cleaning a child's room. She was thankful that the sun was not out in fullness. It kindly had warped itself in a bathrobe of clouds which caused an overcast that allowed you to see everything but also let you look straight into the sky without risk of harm. Being able to sit here in the late morning was one of many gifts of being at University. Time meant something different and if She was careful time would arrange itself in such a way that she would be able to take a walk down the old and cracked path that lead past the beloved bench onto more purposeful destinations for mothers and children and all those who had made connecting with the world into a social networking exercise.
She would come and sit. Sometimes She would read something, often taking brakes to look up and see what had changed when she hadn't been looking. Sometimes She would listen to music that matched the setting and her mood. Often She would sit with her head back and eyes closed taking in deep breaths of the thick air full of smells and texture and listen to the symphony of wind and laughter and trees and all things living would play for her. This would be the time when the magic would show its self to her. Today She followed people with her eyes as far as She could see as they walked by talking to friend in person or on phones, planning their lives, solving life's problems, or basking in newly found love. She smiled at each one. Most, like the bench, never noticed her but some would and give a smile or small nod in response.
She took everything in around her like a mythical wood nymph, watchful, protecting, happy. She noticed all of the colors and smells and textures. On those days when her light felt faded the bench would seem to wrap its self around her and protect her for a change. She knew She had magic but She never knew the power that She held. Much like trying to get a good look at yourself in the reflection of a spoon, She only ever got the vaguest notion of how staggering She was. She never brought anyone to the bench but when someone would sit down beside her She would smile, inviting them to realize the magic. Most would sit for a while and take a glimpse but they always left before her.
Some will ask how I know all this about a woman I have never spoken to. Most of the time my only answer is to smile. To some, I tell them about the bench that I sit on. Its not as old and does not live like hers does. I sit there to do my work and notice her. She sees everything but like a flashlight that makes visible all that is around the keeper, but to those who are on the edge of their beam, the keeper is the most luminescent. I sit on the bench, in her spot, when she is gone and keep it saved. This is where She sits. This is her bench.
Today was the kind of day She liked most of all. The grass was still green despite the fact that the temperature had started its decent. There were people around but they were sparse and unique like the candy you find when cleaning a child's room. She was thankful that the sun was not out in fullness. It kindly had warped itself in a bathrobe of clouds which caused an overcast that allowed you to see everything but also let you look straight into the sky without risk of harm. Being able to sit here in the late morning was one of many gifts of being at University. Time meant something different and if She was careful time would arrange itself in such a way that she would be able to take a walk down the old and cracked path that lead past the beloved bench onto more purposeful destinations for mothers and children and all those who had made connecting with the world into a social networking exercise.
She would come and sit. Sometimes She would read something, often taking brakes to look up and see what had changed when she hadn't been looking. Sometimes She would listen to music that matched the setting and her mood. Often She would sit with her head back and eyes closed taking in deep breaths of the thick air full of smells and texture and listen to the symphony of wind and laughter and trees and all things living would play for her. This would be the time when the magic would show its self to her. Today She followed people with her eyes as far as She could see as they walked by talking to friend in person or on phones, planning their lives, solving life's problems, or basking in newly found love. She smiled at each one. Most, like the bench, never noticed her but some would and give a smile or small nod in response.
She took everything in around her like a mythical wood nymph, watchful, protecting, happy. She noticed all of the colors and smells and textures. On those days when her light felt faded the bench would seem to wrap its self around her and protect her for a change. She knew She had magic but She never knew the power that She held. Much like trying to get a good look at yourself in the reflection of a spoon, She only ever got the vaguest notion of how staggering She was. She never brought anyone to the bench but when someone would sit down beside her She would smile, inviting them to realize the magic. Most would sit for a while and take a glimpse but they always left before her.
Some will ask how I know all this about a woman I have never spoken to. Most of the time my only answer is to smile. To some, I tell them about the bench that I sit on. Its not as old and does not live like hers does. I sit there to do my work and notice her. She sees everything but like a flashlight that makes visible all that is around the keeper, but to those who are on the edge of their beam, the keeper is the most luminescent. I sit on the bench, in her spot, when she is gone and keep it saved. This is where She sits. This is her bench.
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