A Life on a Bench

Her stroll through the park was meant to be a moment of quiet contemplation—a few minutes away from the office to numb her mind and find solace in the linaloolian scent of the newly birthed cherry blossoms. As she wandered, the weight of work left her shoulders. She stopped under a gnarled oak, and as she scanned the scenery, a red squirrel leapt onto one of the many tattered benches, clutching an acorn, catching her attention. She reached tentatively into her bag—hoping to capture the moment. By the time she had raised the lens to her eye, the tiny creature had bolted.

In its place sat an elderly gentleman, his flat cap resting on his head in homage to his life in the mines. He sighed, closing his eyes momentarily. A young mother pushing a pram interrupted his thoughts. His arm pointed to the north of the park.

Click—As she left, he reached into his pocket and clutched a ragged photograph in his hand. His lips turned upwards, crinkling into a smile. He remembered his Tommy. Such a bonny boy and so smart too. He didn’t do too bad of it all in the end. A poignant half-smile captured in eternity.

Click—The lines on the top of his nose concertina quickly into etchings as he wished that his son would visit more. His eyes dampened, the sunlight capturing the moisture—illuminating it on screen like morning dew. He folded the picture and placed it back in his pocket. Eyes, sad and dark. Sunken.

Click—Eyes cast upwards—weathered hands raised as crumbs descended in a confetti of hope for companionship—scattering in golden ingots across the floor.

Click—Pigeons flocked in a spray of wings and grey metal feathers. The man sat unmoving. His subdued eyes were fixated on his friends.

Click—He watched them quietly, his dark eyes distant as he remembered his childhood in the valley. Days filled with nature and the steady rhythm of community and boyhood pranks.

Click—He smiled softly—his eyes scrunched in delight. The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting illuminated beams across the ground.

Click-click—A jogger blocked the shot, her stride confident and focused. He was obscured. Birds filled the air. A singular feather was poised in motion.

Click—His head turned in her direction. He watched her back intently. He sighed at the memory of the wind biting his ears and the thud of feet against the dark earth, offering a cinema of memories.

Click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click—Alone again, he bent deliberately, his spare hand reaching to his back. He scattered the last of the breadcrumbs. The birds surrounded him once again. He was alive. Needed.

Click-click-click-click-click—An exuberant Yorkie ran into the fray, disrupting the gathered aviary. A joyous laugh erupted, and his eyes shimmered with delight as he sat upright to pet the eager animal. He remembered Benji fondly as he patted the bobbing head.

Click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click—A teenager ran into the shot, scooping the dog in her arms—head bowed in apology. The man shook his head in assurance.

Click—His hand was raised as he waved to the now-cradled dog.

Click—He was alone again. His gaze moved across the park—he watched the life now behind him, just beginning. His eyes were opaque.

Click-click-click-click-click-click—A couple argued as they passed, their expressions wrought with frustration. He winced at their harsh words. His mind returned to Vera. They had argued like that as hot-headed teens, but later, life had brought a quiet companionship.

Click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click—His attention returned to a solitary pigeon searching for any leftover crumbs it might have missed. He thought about the little things in life, how they add up, how they matter and somehow, when it comes down to it—how they don’t. It’s all just crumbs. Everybody just hustling for crumbs.

Click-click—He stood. His head docked towards his photographer as he moved out of shot.

Click—The bench was empty. The space around it hummed with the vibrations of a life almost lived.

Many years later, Annie’s first exhibit at The Fraenkel would be entitled—“A Life on a Bench: 60 Seconds in Time.”