Tell Your Story

Flowers

There’s a park bench at Elwood beach, just past the Life Saving Club. I often see people there; mum’s with prams, couples cuddling, joggers tying up their shoe laces. On this particular day, there was an elderly gentleman, sitting alone, hypnotised by the sea view. Next to him sat a bunch of flowers. “How cute!”, I thought.  He’s rendezvousing with his lady love or perhaps surprising his wife. There’s something extra sweet about a couple finding each other later in life or still being romantic after years of marriage. By the time I was on my way back the man had gone but to my surprise, the flowers still sat there, unchanged. My mind began to explore all the possibilities. That poor man! Had he been stood up? Do elderly people do that to each other? Or had he been waiting for someone who was never going to come? A construction of his imagination, a sign of dementia? Where was the man now and why didn’t he take the flowers with him? I looked out to the water . . . no, surely he hasn’t walked in? Why am I so morbid sometimes? Should I do something? Or . . . perhaps the flowers were never his and he was just sharing the bench with them for a while. Perhaps two young lovers so caught up in each other had left them there?

The next day when I walked past, they were still there looking lonely, thirsty and waiting.

On the third day they were gone.

~

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