"The Old Man on the Bench"

 The Old Man on the Bench

Leaves of gold, red, and brown fall from the high looming trees of Central Park and turn the walking path into a moving tapestry of various colors. A brisk Autumn wind blows the leaves across the feet of joggers on their daily runs, couples walking their dogs that pull on their leashes eager to chase after squirrels safely pirched at the top of the tall trees, and families enjoying the picturesque Sunday afternoon. 

As the tantalizing moments of sunshine sneak through the remaining grey clouds from a morining rain shower that fill the sky, an old man slowly shuffles over to his favorite bench in the park. As the old man, who needs the assistance of an old wooden cane to maneuver himself about, reaches the bench he takes a seat and pulls out a paper bag full of bird seed.

"Here you go my aviary friends," the old man says throwing the seed onto the ground. 

A few birds flock to the feet of the old man, pecking at the easy meal he has provided them. As the old man is kept company by the stray birds, a disgruntled young man makes his way over towards the bench the old man has occupied. 

"Are you saving this empty spot for someone else?," the young man inquires. "If you are I can find another place to sit, it's a big park." 

"No not at all young man, take a set I could use the company," the old man replies. 

"Are you here on your own?," the young man asks. 

"I guess you could say that," the old man replies. "I'd like to think my friends on the ground here are keeping me company, along with the other people enjoying this beautiful day in the park." 

The birds finish snacking on the seed and look up at the old man expecting and hoping for more. 

"Sorry but that is all for today my friends," the old man says putting the empty paper bag into his jacket pocket. 

The birds take this as their cue to move on to their next stop and flutter into the air towards their next destination. 

"Do you spend a lot of time in this park," the young man speculates. 

"I try to come here everyday," the old man clairifies. "I've been retired for a long time now and spending time here is something that I really enjoy."

"So you just sit here and feed the birds all day?," the young man asks. 

"No, I sit here and soak in the beauty of this place and it never disappoints," the old man says. "It seems like everyday I discover something new and wonderful about this park that I haven't noticed before." 

"What does your wife think about you spending all that time here," the young man says sarcastically. 

"My wife passed away about ten years ago now and I'd like to think that she is happy that I still come here," the old man says. "After all this was our favorite spot in the city. We would come here together all the time." 

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to be out of line, I didn't know," the young man apologizes. 

"Don't fret young man there is no way you could've known," the old man assured. "Even though she is gone, I come here because this park makes me feel closer to her than anywhere in the world." 

The conversation between the two men is interrupted by the ringing of the young man's cell-phone. The young man excuses himself and walks a few paces away from the bench and takes the call. The young man returns to his seat on the bench, visibly upset, a few minutes later. 

"I don't mean to intrude into your personal business, but are you okay?," the old man asks. "That was a pretty loud conversation and I couldn't help but overhear." 

"It just seems like it has been one thing after another lately," the young man confides. "I broke up with my girlfriend a couple weeks ago, and I just got into a shouting with my best friend. The world is just so ugly and spiteful, it doesn't seem like there is anything good left in it." 

"Non-sense," the old man barks. "You are just looking in the wrong places. Take this park for example. Look around at all the beauty and wonder here." 

"I don't know all I see are people who seem a lot happier and better off than I am," the young man complains.  

"Look past that and look for something deeper," the old man asks. "You've got such a great gift sprawled out at your feet and you are just letting it go to waste because you can't see its real beauty." 

"Okay then, what do you see when you look at it?," the young man commands.  

The old man does a brief scan of the park before taking a deep breath of fresh air. He smiles and turns to address the down trodden young man. 

"I hear the leaves being blown by the wind scraping across the pavement of the path creating a symphony of sounds that can only be heard almost exclusively at this time of the year," the old man states. "I smell the wood burning in a fire pit across the park that reminds me of the Autumn days my family would spend with each other around a fire pit in our backyard. I feel the ground pulsating beneath my feet from the families and young couples in the park that remind me of the walks I would take with my wife, and the conversations we had where we truly learned about the little things that made us fall head-over-heels in love for someone other than ourselves. I can taste the moisture in the air from the rain shower the night before. I can feel the memories of everything that this park has seen when I sit down and feel the wood on this old bench." 

"How do you see all of that, all of those little details," the young man asks.

"It's easy," the old man says. "I've been blind since I was a child. I learned how to appreciate all the parts of life that form the picture you are able to see without ever witnessing it myself."

The young man sits motionless and speechless on the bench after what the old man has told him. 

"You see no matter how bad things get, and trust me I know they can get so bad that you will question everything about yourself, you can still find the beauty in life," the old man says. "The problem with people today is that they are looking for it in all the wrong places. To limit yourself to the things that you see on the surface does nothing but keep the real beauty of life hidden from you. It's not the end product that makes something beautiful, it's the small and overlooked aspects of something or someone that it takes to create them that gives life its real definition. The way my wife would laugh sympathetically at my bad jokes or any of the hundreds of little idiosyncrasies that only myself or a handful of people got to see. Those are the things that make someone who they really are. People don't stop or take the time to realize how beautiful life really is with all it's little traits and characteristics. I learned a long time ago that life is only as beautiful as you make it and that the good will always outweigh the bad, because there is more of it than people ever take the time to realize. Enjoy the little things, without out them the big things would have no meaning." 

The old man sticks out his hand and asks for some assistance up from the bench. The young man helps him up and thanks him for everything that the old man has told him. 

"The beauty of hard times is that they make the good times even more beautiful and wonderful to enjoy," the old man says. "Don't let the little things that on the surface seem valueless and unimportant go unappreciated." 

The old man slides his cane back-and-forth across the ground to help guide his way on his journey home through the park. As he walks out of sight the young man leans back in the bench and looks out on the landscape of the park. As he sits on the bench in silence a rejuvenated smile comes across his face. 

THE END