I found myself in an awkward lull this afternoon, a hiatus in time. Yes, there were things to do, but these were either snippets, tasks to be accomplished in minutes, or those that would take an hour or longer. I had already been out earlier in the day, enjoying the sound and feel of crunch, pop of my cycle wheels as rolled along the gravel path, yet…
Yet, birds were in glorious voice, the sun was smiling, the cooling breeze was drifting in off the lake and so I headed to the bench for the thirty minutes that was afforded to me.
I like the bench once the sun has crossed it’s zenith and begins its steady decline. I like being able to sit beneath the gentle shelter of the giant maple trees and watch the play of their shadows on the soft grass below. I like being able to look at the distant horizon and make up stories of what is happening beyond the reach of sight. I like the tranquility that exists, one punctuated by the occasional whimsical clang that rises from the marina below. I like it when I can hear the distant drone of the elevators loading their cargo into the ships floating idly in the azure harbour.
I have found myself here many times in the past, whether thinking, feeling, writing or reading. Today, in this short space in time, I am writing this piece. I wish I had the words to convey the sensations that exist right now. I wish I could tell you of what I feel like inside, but I can’t. Sometimes, words just don’t exist.
And this, most of all, is why I like the bench.