A Stroll in the Park

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“Until you walk a mile in another man’s moccasins you can’t imagine the smell” Robert Byrne

 
A Stroll in the Park

A lovely day for a walk in the park. Holding hands and walking down the long lane with her best friend. The sun was shining, the flowers were in bloom, the birds were singing. Yes, you could actually hear them, it was early Sunday morning and the natives were still sleeping comfortably.

The two friends had the park for themselves to enjoy. Almost, a little farther down the lane, they spotted an elderly woman sitting at the park bench. Moving closer, the couple detected the lady to be knitting. That is when he broke into tears.

“What is wrong with you?” She asked him.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it. Looking at the lady there just made me think of my own future.”

She was a little confused. One minute ago the sun had been shining and now, it seemed, the storm clouds were gathering.

“What are you talking about? Didn’t you and Mark already have your life planned until retirement?” She tried half joking. Knowing her friend, she could easily imagine the plans the couple had laid out for their future the minute they had become involved.

“No, we broke up, last night!”

He was sobbing hard. He hadn’t dared tell her about it sooner, and wished he had not seen the old lady, nor had come to the park. The reason for not telling his friend was, that he really wasn’t in the mood of hearing the ‘I told you so’s in his current frame of mind.

“Oh.” Was her short answer.

“I will be as lonely as that lady over there is without anyone to love me!” He continued through his tears.

She knew this would happen. Mark had been completely wrong for her friend. Biting her tongue and keeping in mind her friend needed consolation rather than her telling him how wrong he had been.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright! I am here for you!” She then put her arms around her friend and guided him to a nearby seat, trying to calm him down with soft spoken words.
The elderly lady had noticed the couple walking towards her.

‘Oh young love’ She had been thinking. And then she witnessed something odd. The man breaking down in tears!

“Well, I never!”

She said out loud to herself and then thinking,

‘In my days people were gay and laughing. We did not air our dirty laundry in public!’

stroll

The Observer

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“There’s no way to remove the observer – us – from our perceptions of the world” Stephen Hawking

The Observer

I was sitting in the coffee shop, my well-deserved latte in front of me. I was content in emerging into my daily readings on my tablet, but for some reason my eyes kept wandering to the hassle in the bar. Patrons were leaving and new ones were stepping into the shop.

‘Why not!’ I thought. I could play the part of the observer for a little while before continuing my own tasks. Who knows, maybe I would pick up an idea or two for my next writing project.

Sipping my coffee, I noticed the young couple in the corner booth. They were enjoying each others’ company, looking each other in the eye, no words were spoken. New love was in the air.

Feeling like a peeping Tom, I search for something else to gaze upon. My eyes were scanning the room and landed on a woman with three offspring. The mother was deep in thought, or so it seemed, reading the newspaper while her children were throwing napkins, straws and other small items at each other. I wondered how she managed to turn off the surroundings. The patrons at the next table however were not so lucky. Shaking their heads, they grabbed their orders and moved to another table at the farther end the coffee shop.

I laughed a little at the scene played out before me. Good thing I had been thinking ahead and chose the solitary spot close to the windows in the corner. I had a clear view of the whole establishment, but I was also able to concentrate on my reading if I wanted to.

I thought to seek out one more scene before tuning myself out. I noticed the waitresses behind the bar having a heated conversation. I was not able to hear what they were talking about, but clearly the other one was angry about something and kept on ranting, while the other one was just listening in. Wide eyed, nodding every now and again. The angry one was waving her arms in the air, while the quiet one remained stationary, her hands seemed almost glued to her sides. It seemed from an observer’s perspective, the ranter was in charge in that particular relationship, while the listener did just that and probably agreed to everything the ranter told her.

I lost my interest after a little while and noticed the coffee house getting emptier. Guess the rush was over and I could get back to my reading.

observer