Mmkay, here it is: I sat down on a dirty looking bench with chips of paint scratched off by years of use, curious children, and resting birds. The distasteful bench was an ugly dark green color, and it had mocked my distaste for it by wooing me to sit down. After pacing back and forth for thirty minutes, and enduring the attempts of an ugly foliage-colored creation to persuade me that the comfort he could give was better than the exhaustion before me, resting upon a horribly worn out bench did not seem too unsightly at all. So I gave in. I looked at my watch. Quarter past 6. I looked down the road. No cars. No buses. No people. The sun outside was hot but not at all as hot as my patience. One minute later. Note to self: always make sure to explain that lateness is not acceptable. I let out an exhausted groan. This was getting ridiculous. My impatience was starting to worry me so I tried to calm myself by watching the light rustling of trees letting their leafy brethren play through the air like children running from each other. I watched. I watched without making a single noise. I watched taking in every small detail which life wanted me to see. Maybe being metaphysical for a change would make me more peaceable. Each orange colored leaf laughed without the care of being too loud and without the care of seeing my late friend. They were completely engrossed with the windy affairs of Mother Nature, who was completely engrossed in the affairs of her job. She had no time for laughter. No time for chasing after friends who played chess with feelings. No time for her children. Theses trivial points of life were not in her job description. Oh, no! These days everyone has to work ceaselessly to support family—even nature. But Mother Nature’s children played. Those leaves played as if they knew tomorrow they would be dead, for they would be dead, lying upon the ground completely dried up and trampled upon by the feet of uncaring men in business suits with suitcases, too busy to notice the lives they ended. But I noticed. I knew that these men who trampled upon innocence would be fired eventually, and I knew that the trees which let go of their siblings hands would become shriveled each winter as an everlasting reminder of their woeful actions. I looked down the road again. One bus. Five people getting off. One familiar face.
Posted on: Sun, 25 Aug 2013 04:13:22 +0000
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