A Response

     I sit here, on this park bench, doing nothing at all. I sit next to this tall tree as its lovely branches dance with such grace in the wind. I sit along the side of the beautifully stoned, brick path listening to the clicking footsteps of everyone who passes by. Packed sand holds each bright red brick firmly in the ground. The sand does not move, not even with the gust of the wind.

     ​I look ahead to the pond in front of me. It is on the other side of the path, barricaded by lush, green grass and an array of colored flowers. From the distance I am, I can vaguely see little orange fishes swimming artistically through the clear, shallow water. Skimming the tip of the pond, there are bright green lily pads. Magnificent pink lilies have bloomed. Brown, fluffy cattails sprout along the edge of the bank.

     ​Several people surround me. Men, women, and children. Families and couples. They interact with one another on this beautiful day. They sit in the shade of the large trees on top of checkered blankets with baskets of food. They run along the hills throwing Frisbees back and forth and playing catch with fresh, brand new baseballs. They ride bicycles on the dirt trails through the woods. They sit along other benches, talking to one another, building a stronger bond. They are together.

     ​But, as I sit on this bench, I am alone. I am always alone. I want to escape my curse, this burden I must bear. I found that escape. It is on this bench. I watch people here. I wish. I dream.

     ​I watch as a bright blue butterfly flutters in front of my eyes. Its vibrant colors gradient from a light shade at the tip of the wing, to a dark shade at the base. As I watch it, I wonder what it is like to fly - to be born free - free from worry and sorrow. I wish. I dream.

     ​I hear the birds up in the tips of the trees. I wonder what it is like to sing - to sing so sweetly, with such talent and capability. I wish, and, once again, I dream. I dream of being born with such talent, but I have none.

     ​I pick up a small backpack that sits against my feet. I pull out a smooth, wooden board and a piece of rough sketching paper. I pull out a small box. I lift the latch, and my pencils come into view. I take out the lightest one. I draw.

     ​My pencil moves gently across the page. I see a little girl in a pink summer dress with white polka dots on it. The skirt of the dress is loose and wrinkled in many places due to her movement. Her blonde hair is in cute little pigtails. She walks on the brick path with bare feet. I see her father behind her. He is carrying her tiny shoes and her tiny socks. He follows her, brown sandals on his feet, and an untucked, white, collared shirt hanging over his khaki cargo shorts. His blonde hair nearly touched the lower tips of his ears. It blows in rhythm with the wind.

     ​I continue to study the man. His bright blue eyes inundate with love and passion as he watches his daughter. His wide, gentle smile is as bright as the sun. I wonder how it feels to be in his position. I close my eyes. I wish. I dream.

     ​I look back down at my paper. I see the father and his daughter frozen in motion. The emotion on the man's face - such passion - it envelops my attention once again as if I were witnessing the scene for the very first time. I lift my head and watch the two for a minute more. They make their way down the path. There is a woman standing, waiting for them, beneath one of the largest trees. Her golden locks are back in a medium-length ponytail, revealing the young beauty of her face. She wears dark colored glasses, denim shorts that cut off below her knee, and a red, fitted shirt. Her smile overflows with an emotion so similar to that of the man. She bends over and hugs the little girl, picking her up off the ground. I conclude that the woman is the mother. I wonder what it is like to have such a lovely family. I wonder what it is like to have such a lovely bond with a mother and father. I wish. I dream.