Park Bench

Park Bench

Written by: David A. DeRose

Three old ladies sit on a park bench. Their crackled faces form smiles, sincere and reassuring. The sun warms their pale, freckled, vascular flesh. They watch as toddlers, a boy and a girl, bobble in the thick green grass. Watching, they discuss old times, families, and get caught up on grandchildren. Their seasoned vocal chords make melodies that sit atop the breeze like music.

Their gaze moves from each other to survey they park. The boy, in his coveralls and light blue shirt, is carefully observing the grass around him—chubby arms raised like a football referee. The girl’s blonde hair glows in the sunlight as she bounces and twirls, making her flower dress catch the wind and flutter freely. Her arms spread wide to catch every bit of balance she can. In an instant, she loses her hold on gravity and falls gently on her backside.

Just to the left, the boy squats, and is clearly investigating something closely. The old ladies can’t see what it is as the boy’s back is facing them. He points and reaches down with his chubby hand. He plucks something from the ground and stands up with it, holding it with both hands. The girl, just getting up from her tumble, turns to the boy just in time. He offers her a dandelion. His posture: regal. The girl’s hands go to both of her cheeks before accepting the yellow blossom.

The old lady on the left clasps her hands together, rubbing one thumb down the middle of her palm, and cracks a shy smile. The old lady in the middle taps her hand on her bosom, tilting her head slightly to the left sighing softly. The old lady on the right claps her hands together—jewelry rattling—and exclaims, “Oh, what a gentleman!”

Beauty is transitory moments that are as sweet as they are fleeting. These old women, with their untold wisdom and keen awareness of their own mortality, watch the two youngsters investigating the world with innocent eyes. The women’s moment is equally as beautiful as the children’s frolicking. This is life’s beautiful balance; young and old. Perspectives, in endless juxtaposition, deliver timeless transcendent splendor.