A Painting of a Park Bench
I wiped the rag across the cool granite and cupped my hand under the edge of the counter, making a pocket for crumbs to fall into. Another day, another fifteen minutes until I needed to leave for work. I took the crumbs and dumped them in the sink, and slopped the rag back into the soapy water. One more rinse, and I will dry. My thoughts were everywhere.
"I wonder if that guy at work will be rude again today. Why can't I just kill him with kindness, instead of retorting back?"
"These shoes are not very dressy. I guess it doesn't really matter since they have never given me a proper uniform anyways. I should wear my nike's instead, they are more comfortable. Dang, I still need to wash them."
I hear the doorbell ring, and the dogs start to bark. It gives me a mild heart attack. Why oh why does Auzzie have such a shrill high bark? "Shut up girls!" I commanded, as I walked to the front door. "Who the heck could that be." I mumble under my breath. For a slight moment, I think maybe it's a surprise for me. Someone I haven't seen in a while. But, this isn't a romance novel, or a movie, so I push the thought aside. I look through the peep hole and don't see anyone standing there. Must be UPS. I open the door to see a large white box. It's standing on it's side, in the shape of a large rectangular picture frame. It doesn't have any writing on it, but it's clean and has a small handle at the top.
By this time the dogs have already ran through the front door to the gate at the end of court-yard. They are barking frantically and making a huge fuss. I call them inside, and go to lift the box. It's heavy, but not so much that I need help, so I take it inside.
I call my Mom to see if she was waiting for something to arrive. She tells me no, and I explain to her that the box has no markings on it. I get slightly afraid, because what if it's a terrorist attack or something?! I mean, it's not likely, but it could be. My mind flashes to me opening the box and hundreds of little balls falling out and spilling to the floor. They open one by one, filling the air with toxic fumes, and I die.
Curiosity killed the cat. I might as well be a cat today. I go into the kitchen and grab a pair of scissors. There is a fine line of tape at the top of the box, and I slice it open. It's a picture frame. Covered in a tan burlap material, and perfectly situated between styrofoam blocks. I lift it up and out of the box, kicking the box away and angling the picture against the foyer wall. As I loosen the burlap from around the picture I see vibrant displays of reds and orange, pink, yellow and a deep purple. It's an abstract version of a simple park bench. Two people sitting on it, with the girls legs swung over the top of the mans lap. The trees are purple and hang low over the two lovers. They sit kissing on a bench.
Gosh, it's so vibrant. It's so beautiful. My eyes start to tear up, as I notice the other shapes in the figure. A small red lamp-post, streaming yellow and orange light. The red bench, the brown, gravel road laying underneath. The people, so artistically mastered into the bench, like they were there before anything else. How the colors, though mostly the same, seem so different and so carefully molded together.
I step away from the picture, (in my interest, I've crouched close to it on the ground, with it inches from my face) and I look around the room. It felt as though someone was watching me for a moment. I check the door, and no one is there. I walk to the end of the yard, to the street, and I see no one.
Whoever did this, is an amazing artist. I'm not sure it was meant for me, but I am sure that it is something I will never for..Wait... who painted this? Is there a name. The work seems oddly familiar. I rush inside the door and search the painting for a signature. Nothing. I turn the picture over and on the back of the frame in small handwriting... I see his name. Could it be? Could this really be happening?
I sink to my knees in awe. Another movie-like encounter with this boy, this man, this artist. I look at the painting again, and it becomes ever-more familiar. I go back to the memory of him and I in the park that night. Sitting on that bench. How could he? How did he? I run my fingers across the people in the painting. They seem to be alive, in love.
I've thought up things like this, in moments of wanting. The moments when I missed him more than I missed anyone else. I took advantage of a chance encounter, that winter eve. I left him with nothing, no part of me. Just a broken heart to show. I often thought back to him, to us. Wondering "what if?" and "why not?". This was just too surreal, too out of bounds. I checked my watch and saw that I was late. I needed to go. But how was I supposed to go anywhere, when he was near? How was I supposed to do anything when he was trying to reach for me?
I stood there, astonished, and shocked. Unsure of what to do next.
((This piece of writing is fictional, some elements of the writing are true, but it is mostly a thought. I often think of things like this while driving alone in my car on the way home from work. I think I watch too many movies, and read too many books. But, I'm glad that I have somewhere to put these thoughts. They make me incredibly sad, and happy at the same time. I hope you enjoyed this, leave me a comment or two on your thoughts. Thanks!))
"I wonder if that guy at work will be rude again today. Why can't I just kill him with kindness, instead of retorting back?"
"These shoes are not very dressy. I guess it doesn't really matter since they have never given me a proper uniform anyways. I should wear my nike's instead, they are more comfortable. Dang, I still need to wash them."
I hear the doorbell ring, and the dogs start to bark. It gives me a mild heart attack. Why oh why does Auzzie have such a shrill high bark? "Shut up girls!" I commanded, as I walked to the front door. "Who the heck could that be." I mumble under my breath. For a slight moment, I think maybe it's a surprise for me. Someone I haven't seen in a while. But, this isn't a romance novel, or a movie, so I push the thought aside. I look through the peep hole and don't see anyone standing there. Must be UPS. I open the door to see a large white box. It's standing on it's side, in the shape of a large rectangular picture frame. It doesn't have any writing on it, but it's clean and has a small handle at the top.
By this time the dogs have already ran through the front door to the gate at the end of court-yard. They are barking frantically and making a huge fuss. I call them inside, and go to lift the box. It's heavy, but not so much that I need help, so I take it inside.
I call my Mom to see if she was waiting for something to arrive. She tells me no, and I explain to her that the box has no markings on it. I get slightly afraid, because what if it's a terrorist attack or something?! I mean, it's not likely, but it could be. My mind flashes to me opening the box and hundreds of little balls falling out and spilling to the floor. They open one by one, filling the air with toxic fumes, and I die.
Curiosity killed the cat. I might as well be a cat today. I go into the kitchen and grab a pair of scissors. There is a fine line of tape at the top of the box, and I slice it open. It's a picture frame. Covered in a tan burlap material, and perfectly situated between styrofoam blocks. I lift it up and out of the box, kicking the box away and angling the picture against the foyer wall. As I loosen the burlap from around the picture I see vibrant displays of reds and orange, pink, yellow and a deep purple. It's an abstract version of a simple park bench. Two people sitting on it, with the girls legs swung over the top of the mans lap. The trees are purple and hang low over the two lovers. They sit kissing on a bench.
Gosh, it's so vibrant. It's so beautiful. My eyes start to tear up, as I notice the other shapes in the figure. A small red lamp-post, streaming yellow and orange light. The red bench, the brown, gravel road laying underneath. The people, so artistically mastered into the bench, like they were there before anything else. How the colors, though mostly the same, seem so different and so carefully molded together.
I step away from the picture, (in my interest, I've crouched close to it on the ground, with it inches from my face) and I look around the room. It felt as though someone was watching me for a moment. I check the door, and no one is there. I walk to the end of the yard, to the street, and I see no one.
Whoever did this, is an amazing artist. I'm not sure it was meant for me, but I am sure that it is something I will never for..Wait... who painted this? Is there a name. The work seems oddly familiar. I rush inside the door and search the painting for a signature. Nothing. I turn the picture over and on the back of the frame in small handwriting... I see his name. Could it be? Could this really be happening?
I sink to my knees in awe. Another movie-like encounter with this boy, this man, this artist. I look at the painting again, and it becomes ever-more familiar. I go back to the memory of him and I in the park that night. Sitting on that bench. How could he? How did he? I run my fingers across the people in the painting. They seem to be alive, in love.
I've thought up things like this, in moments of wanting. The moments when I missed him more than I missed anyone else. I took advantage of a chance encounter, that winter eve. I left him with nothing, no part of me. Just a broken heart to show. I often thought back to him, to us. Wondering "what if?" and "why not?". This was just too surreal, too out of bounds. I checked my watch and saw that I was late. I needed to go. But how was I supposed to go anywhere, when he was near? How was I supposed to do anything when he was trying to reach for me?
I stood there, astonished, and shocked. Unsure of what to do next.
((This piece of writing is fictional, some elements of the writing are true, but it is mostly a thought. I often think of things like this while driving alone in my car on the way home from work. I think I watch too many movies, and read too many books. But, I'm glad that I have somewhere to put these thoughts. They make me incredibly sad, and happy at the same time. I hope you enjoyed this, leave me a comment or two on your thoughts. Thanks!))
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