The Lunch Hour

The ducks, geese and other birds aren't here today, there's just the trees, water and that bright sunshine.  March is an odd month.  It's not spring yet, but it's not really winter either.  Nothing is green yet, but we're not in the frozen grip of winter either.  It feels as if we're all waiting for something.

We come here on our lunch hour.  It's a very small park, really.  You can park maybe 5 or 6 cars in the lot.  Everyone parks facing the little pond.  Today, the sun is very bright, glinting off the water.  On all sides of us, traffic, buildings, busy people, cars going in and out of lots. Straight ahead?  Trees, grass, and sunlight on the water. 

Everyone brings something different here.  We come and sit, leaving our offerings on the grass for the ducks and geese.  Someone is struggling, and hopes he can forget, for just a moment.  Another is overwhelmed, and is seeking peace.  A couple, committed to others, steal a few moments together. Still another is counting her blessings.  I see them all here, and catch little glimpses of what they thought they were hiding from everyone.

I sit in my little red Subie with the music on, writing.  I close my eyes and let it all wash over me.   A brief moment to go to the quiet places.  It comes, the familiar blend of melancholy and joy.  I people-watch, and write, always the words. 

And so, we sit, and send out our little wishes, hopes, and try and leave our heartaches behind. 

And the water and the sunlight reflect back to us what we send out.  And somehow, it does come back differently. 

And, we are altered.