OPEN EYES
This morning’s roof is a light blue. Soft angel clouds scud west towards the park, then the golden yellow sand. I watch the trees from my bedroom window. They bow gently and I must go outside, share the marvel of the day with them. A speck of loneliness goes with me. No need to hurry. I walk slowly, carefully, stopping to inhale the beauty of the lavender jacaranda trees. My gait remains slower than I want it to be since I slipped on the loveliness of the flowers covering blocks and blocks of sidewalks. I hold them no ill will.
The rusting black park gate is wide open. Surprisingly I don’t see Max, the regular guard. I do, however, recognize the uniform coming in but not the person. ‘Good morning,’ I say with a smile and ask if Max is ill. ‘Are you the new guard?’ ‘Yes, Ma am. I’m new but have been with park services for ten years. Max is on vacation for a week. Have a nice day,’ he says and turns away from me.
Already my legs are tired but I make it to the next green bench. It is in bad shape, worse than the one I will try to reach later. A seat slat is missing. The left wrought iron arm rest is rusty. Before I put down my small back and tush pillow, I look over the jagged name and dirty words cut in the wood by unforgivable nasty kids. ‘DR,’ Hmnn. Is that for doctor or Diana Ross? Silly me. There is a long serpentine scar from one end of the bench to the other. I’ve seen this before. A new one, not yet turned rusty brown, says one word, ‘HEIL.’ It bodes no good.
The tangerine in my shopping bag beckons to me. It peels easily, the sweet juice teases my tongue and I eat each segment as if it were the last tangerine on earth. From a re-used small plastic bag, I take a few Kleenex tissues, wipe my fingers and dripping chin and neatly put the remains in the shopping bag.
Each time the birch trees bend a little in the breeze, bright sunlight almost blinds me. I gather my pillow and the remaining cookie snacks I still have and move my seat to the other side of the path. The bench is just like the others, beat up, abused.
I close my eyes and day dream about my Douglas, the times we sat in the park smooching, the prelude to our too short marriage. It’s not a good idea for me to linger on the ‘what ifs, the whys.’ A nanny pushes a stroller showing off adorable twins. For no reason I can see, she stops, looks at the girls, wipes their precious faces and kisses each lightly on her cheek. I like her and wish I had a child and such a good nanny.
Almost two hours of morning have disappeared. It is time for me to walk slowly home. I turn and go back towards the gate, the way I came
in. It got longer walking out than in and I must stop for a short rest. This time I don’t even glance at the names, the carvings in the slats. All I want to do is gather my strength, make it home. Am I imagining I hear a kitten? I’m not sure what that tiny muffled sound is but walk towards it. There, under the next bench is a cardboard carton, a blue blanket over its partially covered lid.
I kneel down, pull the box towards me. The blanket moves. When I take it off a meek meow melts my heart. There is a crayoned note under the kitty. It has only six simple words, ‘Please take care of my kitty.’ I lift the cardboard box with the gray striped kitty still inside.
It opens its blue eyes, blue as the sky above and I walk past the guard at the gate, wave and tell him, ‘Have a nice day.’
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