The Park Bench | Teen Ink

The Park Bench

June 3, 2021
By emireb333 BRONZE, Yonkers, New York
emireb333 BRONZE, Yonkers, New York
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"I write because it fulfills me. I do it for the pure joy of the thing, and if you can do it for joy, you can do it forever." - Stephen King


The bench I am sitting on is nothing more than a simple park bench.  Many people walk by it, and several people rest on it.  They don’t think much about this bench, but to me, this bench is the world.  It is the reason I keep going, but also the reason I wish I could die.  When I sit on this bench, I am reminded of happier times.  The times when I used to sit with her and admire the scenery.  She used to love to look up at the trees and watch the cherry blossoms. She used to say they were the most beautiful and delicate things in creation, and I used to tell her that the only thing more beautiful than the blossoms was the way her eyes would light up when she saw them.

Sitting at this bench is not just a dream but a nightmare.  As I watch the cherry blossoms drift delicately in the breeze, I think of her and the time when her smile faded away as her heart gave out at this very bench.  Sitting here reminds me that I have so much more life left to live, but she can not experience it with me.

I lean down to touch the ground where a pile of cherry blossoms have fallen.  I brush them away to reveal a little grave marker in the ground.  I read it quietly to myself, “Here lies a loving wife who will forever stay to watch the cherry blossoms”.

I close my eyes in sorrow trying to remember her bright eyes and smile, knowing that even though she is here with me, I will never see her face light up again. 

As I try to recall her face, a deep sleep washes over me, and I see a bright light in the distance.  In that bright light, I see her, beautiful smile and all, standing there.  Her hand reaches out to me, and I run towards her, desperately wanting to feel her touch.  When I grab her hand, I feel a sharp pain in my chest.  It lasts for a few minutes, and then it fades away.  I begin to wonder if it was really just sleep that came over me when I was sitting at that bench, but it doesn’t matter.  As long as I am here with her, nothing else could possibly matter to me.


The author's comments:

I was inspired to write this piece by an image of a solitary bench placed in a park (hence the name of the piece).  It reminded me that you could be surrounded by people, but still feel empty inside.  Sometimes there's a hole in your heart the size of a specific person.


Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.