Streetlight

4

The day is. It simply is. There is no way to truly describe it, except for clear, bright, and beautiful, like the little world we find ourselves on.

Margaret thinks this, as she is sitting down and observing the little things around her.
She is sitting on a spot she got quite accustomed to. The bench she is on is not too far from the playground, which lets her watch the kids play, while reminishing memories of her long lost childhood, but the spot is also not near enough to get startled by any sudden noise coming from the playground itself, like a kid that starts to cry. Margaret is known for being jumpy, after all.

That little place even has a bin next to it, and even a streetlight above it, if someone wants to read at night. Not like she would put herself through such a torture, with her sight being as bad as it could be, but she knows of people that appreciate that sort of thing.

In the end, that spot is the perfect place to make memories, that is what Margaret thinks.

The only issue is the streetlight itself, as it buzzes from time to time and it, naturally, always startles Margaret. The old thing must be breaking apart, and it looks pretty old in fact, although it's not like the other streetlights are much different.
She takes her composure back and gets back to observing the place.
Her wrinkled hands lay one on top of another, on her own lap, gripping lightly on her long, flower-patterned.
Her gaze fixed somewhere upwards, and she ends up reminishing memories of the vast fields she would run in, with skies identical to the one that presented itself that day.

Sceneries from the past, when she had youth in her hands. When willpower and energy were at their fullest and they pushed her in all directions.
And now, she's done everything she was meant to do. She tried her best, and is now living the moments she has left.
And Margaret knows it very well.
But she doesn't mind at all. After all, she became aware of this so long ago, but she used her time as best as she could, with struggles and whatnot.
Why should she be sad?
Margaret mentally slaps herself a bit. Again, she ended up daydreaming and thinking about the weirdest of things, like always. But it's true.

Margaret has always wished to be somebody people would look up to, a gentle soul that would respect anyone regardless, a person that would give you relief with only a smile. Something so simple yet so hard, so admirable, something you have to work for.
She does not know for sure if she has succeeded or not in her attempt, but she knows for a fact that her much dearest affectionhas reached out to everyone she cares about, and even to the people that are simply around her, and that is enough for her.

But this does not mean she will stop pursuing those ideals she still holds so close to her heart.
After all, she wants to show love to everyone, even to the next generations, and there are many examples which show how she shows that love, in her own little ways.

A quite small kid comes walking - no - running towards Margaret, from the park next to her. A small boy with a red cap, orange-blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes and short but brightful clothing. Little Coleb showed up.
The two just met one day. Margaret was simply sitting in the same spot one day, eating a fresh batch of homemade cookies with chocolate drops. Coleb just happened to walk by once and, being a kid that always got straight to the point, asked if he could have a cookie, after he noticed the old, half-crooked grandma. Needless to say, Coleb became probably addicted to those cookies and decided to steal - with consent - a few of those each time they met.

And this is not any different. Coleb had his puppy eyes the entire time as he got to the grandma, as to signal Margaret with their secret-not-so-secret language.
As if this became a routine long ago, and it did.
"Here, sweetheart. I baked twice the cookies today! You can share some with your friends if you want." Margaret was holding two small bags with cookies, instead of the usual single bag.

"Wow, thanks ma'am! But wait... they are not... yucky this time, right?"
"You mean poisonous?"
Margared makes a heartfelt laughter.
With a playful tone, she continues.
"Ho ho, here, let little old grandma the great risk her life to show you. I have not much to live anyway, so it's not a big loss! Don't worry."

Coleb looked concerned, maybe a bit scared.
Margaret eats a cookie from the bag that was meant for Coleb. And oh how truly delightful. If there was one thing she was the best at, it was baking those cookies.

Still playful, she starts moving dramatically as if on stage, and lets her entire weight rest on the bench. Internally, she is just barely holding herself from laughing.
"Oh... Oh no, I'm feeling sick...! You must be right, I poisoned the cookies! I'll die!"
"G-granny!"
"I must have poisoned these..."
She straightens up, fixing her cardigan.
"With regret! These cookies are too good to be eaten, if I do say so myself!"
"Granny! I got scared..." Coleb is holding his hands now, looking down on the floor.
Margaret returns to her old calm voice and lifts the kid's head.
"Oh dear, I must have gone overboard a bit. Oh don't worry sweetheart, it's fine. After all, I can't perish until I make more cookies! Don't you think, dear?"

Coleb puffed his cheeks but quickly smiled again. Margaret happily continues.
"That's right, you can enjoy your cookies now! And actually..."
Margaret takes her bag and puts one of her cookies in Coleb's bag instead.
"Here, for the cookie I stole from you."
"But I'm the one stealing..."
"I let you steal from me, Coleb. Don't think I'm powerless, haha! Oh, it's even a pleasure for me, you know. Each cookie forms a new happy memory! As little as they are."

Coleb smiles, with such a little but truthful smile, that kind of smile that Margaret wishes to give to people.
"Thanks...! See you around!"
And Coleb runs away, as he appeared before.

A little soul in a little world.
This is how Margaret sees herself.
A little soul, that wants to give others a smile, a happy memory.
She isn't afraid of death, she has shown herself enough love, she believes in others as others believe in her. And although she sometimes seems reckless, her heart has always been something to look up to.

She isn't afraid of death, as it is waiting for her for who knows when. Her life was a happy one. She has learned what she had to learned, lived what she had to live, feel what she had to feel. And she is ready. And as long as she lives, she wants to let others know about the beauty of that world and of the people in it, and maybe it's not in all of them, or maybe not many have that beauty in them, but she still wants to fight for it, for everything that deserves it.

And she has shown enough for the people of her own times, you could say, so what's left is who's new, to let them have their hopes nourished, their bright dreams fullfilled, to let the beauty stay in all its forms.
Margarer mentally slaps herself again. And again, she ended up daydreaming and thinking about the weirdest of things. But it's true.

She isn't afraid of death. In fact, she feels safe, she feels safer than ever, by embracing something that seems so terrible and yet holds its own beauty.
In the end, she feels hope, for the future that has to be, and she feels glad, for the people that have to be.

The streetlight flickers.