The Bench on the Path

Like busy bees working tirelessly to get the day's work done, a village of forest ferries raced around putting things in place for the party. It was Ellabelle's birthday on Saturday, and the whole community was getting together to celebrate. She wasn't a princess or anything like that. She was just a regular, everyday, plain Jane of the ferries. No special butterfly colored wings. No shiny rainbow sparkles. No glimmer in her eyes. Just kindness. She was the nicest forest ferry in the village. That's why everyone loved her, and that's why everyone was celebrating her birthday on Saturday. Under normal circumstances it couldn't be a surprise in such a small village where everyone knows each other, and not a single ferry was floating in place. But today it was different. Today, the party could be a surprise for Ellabelle, because she was out of the village boundaries, exploring the forest for the perfect tree nook to sink into and disappear into her novel.

When Ellabelle would return there would be cheering and laughter, whistles and dancing, hooting and hollering. Everyone would celebrate her existence simply for being her and for being kind. She didn't have to be anything special. She was able to just BE. 

Sitting alone on a hard wooden bench, it was easy to imagine a made-up life in a made-up world where everything was easy and there were no enemies in a village that would fit in the palm of your hand. A hot tear dripped down the side of my face, slowed only by the rim of my glasses. I stared at the grass below my feet for what seemed like a lifetime. Then I changed directions and stared into the hanging flowers dangling above my head. I observed every detail and flaw. I memorized it over and over until the image was burned in my memory forever. I sat like that for hours, just staring at everything around me, absorbing the quiet, and letting myself get enveloped in the stillness. There was a gentle breeze in the air, just enough to remind me that I was still here, nothing else moving, nothing else changing.

I wish I were a butterfly. I wish I had wings that would allow me to escape the ground. I wish I were small enough I wouldn't get caught. I wish I were beautiful enough to be noticed. I wish I were spectacular enough to change myself completely from one thing to another simply by hibernating and isolating myself from the world around me.

I laid down on my back, feet propped up in front of me on the bench. I let my head fall to the side. My eyes lined up with a patch of missing greenery in the protective wall of plants that surrounded me. Through the patch, the large open sky was visible. Empty, not a cloud in sight. Lonely, not a bird or a plane or a butterfly to speak of. In the distance I could hear the sounds of feet rustling, voices chattering, bells ringing, all proof that other people existed. I tried to block them out. It didn't work. My mind wandered back to the beginning of the day, every last thing I said or did that made me feel stupid. I shook it off my shoulders and rolled into the grass. I was careful not to crush any village homes or forest ferries. I looked ahead of me, and I looked behind me. The pergola stretched as far as the eye could see in either direction. Multiple shades of purple and green alternating through a never-ending tunnel that just curved into one continuous loop after another. The only thing that kept me from thinking that I was in a kaleidoscope were two identical wooden benches to my right. Simple and plain. Like me. Surrounded by a colorful world of discovery that they'll never quite be able to reach.

I thought about the two opposing directions I had to choose from to find my way out of here. Then I got up and rested on the bench one more time. If I sat here awhile longer, maybe the world would disappear, and I would never have to choose. I would remain stuck in this beautiful, never ending loop forever. I could meld with the bench and become a part of the scenery. But I would still be me. Plain and simple. The only difference is that here, I would stand out and be noticed. Maybe if I could just bring myself to move, my feet would choose a direction for me, and I could follow them. I felt stuck. Maybe it was already too late. Maybe I had already become a part of the bench, just another extension of the boring and mundane. I jerked off the bench with every fiber I had and stumbled into the wall of flowers across from me, falling through them to the bright morning day waiting on the other side. The sun warmed my face and sealed my eyelids. I looked back at the trellis behind me, separating me from the bench I had been so glued to before. I missed the security of the bench and the protection of the wall. I wished I had a moment to say goodbye. I had run from it so quickly that I didn't realize it may not always be there for me to fall back on. Inside the dome, I had two benches waiting for me to take my time and lean on them a little so they could serve the job they were made for. Now the bench that had supported me for so long was just a memory.

I straightened out my legs, and with a warm tear running down my cheek, I made my way. Before I even had a chance to realize it, my feet had left the ground. With my wings outstretched, I flew away, with the soft beat of rock and roll somewhere in the distance, a piece of the wind, letting me know it would always be with me, even if it wasn't a bench to catch me anymore.

In Memory of The Bench