The Bench The Bench

 

A red bench sits still on the footpath near my home. Old, unpolished, but there through seasons for the tired passersby to take some rest. I carry many memories of it, which are highly significant to me. Me and my then special one would sit on it, holding hands, sinking in the faint light as we enjoyed long conversations. Promises made, complaints heard, compliments given, fights resolved...and the bench was witness to it all. Just like the evening, the bench too was witness t the the love we shared through our words and silences.

 

Little did we know, these moments will be short-lived. Even after we separated, memories of the time spent on that bench stayed with me, too vivid to let go. I still pass by the bench every day. Until a few days after the break-up, everytime I passed from front of the bench, I would picturise me and my boyfriend sitting on it, holding each other’s hand, gazing into the night sky.

 

With time, I realised that the bench had become the cynosure of many of my memories and a sort of comforting corner. But not just me, it meant a lot to the others as well, like the homeless elderly woman who could get some sound sleep on it, or the college students who would patiently wait for their bus to arrive. Till date, the bench, like a wise old man, holds in its heart so many secrets but tells them to none. The maker of memories!