She enjoyed coming to the park. On quiet days, when no one was around, when she could concentrate. Just her and her knitting. Alone. Gratitude welled up within her. It was spring. The afternoon was still and warm. She saw the couple coming down the path. Approaching her. Crowding out her aloneness. She focused hard on the needles in her lap. On looping the bright red yarn, as if, by sheer will, she could make any and every interruption evaporate.
The young woman had chosen her favorite khaki jacket to wear to the park that day. He had complimented her the last time she wore it. She so wanted things to be as they were. Something was very wrong, though. She could sense it. Even as she stepped out onto the stoop and folded her hand in his, she could feel the distance between them. They walked together like strangers. He appeared oblivious to the beauty of this April afternoon, to the brilliant new colors of spring.
He was running late. Again. What else could possibly go wrong? By the time he reached her doorstep, anger and grief were already catching in his throat. There was so much he had to tell her. When he was ready. Certainly not on this otherwise perfect spring day. He breathed in the air. He tried to clear his head. It was the sight of a stranger that tore him wide open. Just an old woman on a bench blissfully knitting love into a sweater. But he could not help himself. He started to cry.
Today’s Writing 101 assignment was an exercise in perspective. I was less than enthusiastic, but tapped out three short paragraphs, each portraying the assigned scene. To compensate, I thought I would also share some recent photographs. For better or worse, since taking Photography 101, I find myself a little picture crazy. My most recent obsession has been with flowers. Enjoy.