The Park.

Day Eight: Write about a park or public place (twist) without using adverbs. Day Nine: Write about the given scene (twist) using three points of view. “A man and a woman walk through the park together, holding hands. They pass an old woman sitting on a bench. The old woman is knitting a small, red sweater. The man begins to cry.”  Here are days 8 & 9 combined.


The park is overflowing with people on this bright, sunny day.  There are couples strolling about, families picnicking, and children bouncing along. I am working on a lovely little sweater for my great-grandson. I am blessed to have lived long enough to enjoy another generation of family. I reflect on the last family get together when the little ones barged through the door with open arms for hugs &kisses. I smile. I am warmed by my thoughts. My mood matches the day. 


The park is crammed with people today.  The sun was shining so we decided to get some fresh air and go for a walk. I don’t feel like walking but I’m making the effort.  To say things have been tense in the house is an understatement. Ever since we lost Jonathan, I can’t seem to connect with my husband anymore.  But here we are, holding hands, walking in the park, pretending we will get through this.  I would rather sit down but there are so many people here.  I wonder if that old woman would make room for us on the bench. 


The park seems busy for a Friday.  Maybe the summer breeze and sunshine has brought everyone out of their air conditioned homes. Summer reminds me of Jonathan.  He was only four when we lost him but summer was his favorite season. That’s when we spent the most time together as a family. Ashley and I would always plan kid-friendly outings. And of course, his birthday was in summer.  As I walk hand in hand with Ashley, I am hoping our love will guide us through this.  It’s been six months since the accident. Ashley feels its time to move on.  I guess I should focus on us, now two instead of three.  We are no longer one of the families picnicking, with a bouncing toddler and thoughts of future children.  We are back to being one of the couples strolling.  There is a smiling old woman on a bench nearby knitting a sweater for a small child. The sight pushes me over; the river of grief flows from my eyes…






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