To the old woman sitting by the pond

To the old woman sitting by the pond,

I saw you as I was driving by. You were sitting on the bench looking out at the pond back behind the neighborhood.

I was in a rush to get where I was going, if I had more time I would have stopped and said hello.

You were a solitary actress is a picturesque scene, it made my car window into a TV screen, a portal view into a whole other world of story.

I’ve been so curious since. I ought to have decided to just be late to where I was off to, but I made the choice to keep going and now I can’t stop wondering about your story.

I wonder how you got to the pond. You had a cane with you. There was no car parked on the street. Did you walk here by yourself? Did someone drop you off?

What brought you here? Are you out there often? Is this part of your regular routine? Or were called out by the springtime?

I wonder what you were thinking about. Something that’s going on? Thinking about your kids or grandkids? Sweet memories of the past? Maybe just enjoying the rare natural serenity in an urban world?

This is what I imagine you might have said if I had stopped to ask you your story.

This has happened to become part of my every day. It used to be that I came out here to escape the noise of the playtime of my three grandsons. They were quite a loud crew when they were little, running around throwing things trying to be like the “Perfect Dude” or shooting around those nerf guns. So I started coming out here to get a moment of quiet in a projectile free zone. It’s nice that we have something like this left in our neighborhood, but you should have seen what this area looked like before they developed it…

So now my grandkids, they’re grown and busy with sports and friends but I still come out here whenever the weather isn’t too hot, cold, or wet. Sometimes I bring a book, but most of the time I just come out here to enjoy what I can see and hear. The birds, the wind, the clouds. It used to be so rare to have a time like this, now I have a lot more quiet in my life, but I still like to come out here. Going somewhere alone is much less lonely than just being alone.

I listen for more than just the birds or the bugs or the wind or the planes. I listen to my old friends and my family. My memory speaks much louder out here. I remember all the bedtime stories I read to my kids. I remember the laughter and games of the dinner parties of my younger years. I remember the songs my mom used to sing to me when I was a girl. I’ve had a lifetime of memories and it would take a lifetime more to remember them all, but here, by this pond, all the best ones come back to life.

I hope you’re reaping the fruit of a lifetime of good memories. And I hope that you have people to share them with.

I’ve learned from my lack of encounter with you, but if I have another opportunity, I promise I’ll stop and say hello.

Sincerely,

Ben