A familiar, uncomfortable feeling settled over me, and I started to stand. Escape.
“Oh, please,” the woman said. “Stay for a while longer, won’t you? And watch the ducks with me.”
Stunned, I just looked at her, and her smile was soft and warm.
“I miss the company of another person, sometimes,” she said. Her green eyes, somber and soft, pleaded. “Won’t you stay?”
Somehow, she’d convinced me with those kind eyes. “All right,” I answered, and settled back down. When I noticed she was watching me close, I gave her a hesitant smile.
“I see you here sometimes,” I said quietly. “With the ducks.”
She nodded, and her bob bouncing along her jaw. She smiled. “I see you, too.”
The ducks had made it to the bench, and were gobbling the bread up as fast as the woman could break it off and toss it down. She handed me a piece, and I took it. Eyeing her, I did what she did: broke the bread into small pieces and threw it down. A fat white duck hurried over, scooped the bread up with his orange bill, tilted his head back, and chugged it down. My mouth tugged, and I grinned. When I glanced at the woman, she was watching me.
“Why are you so sad?” she asked. “I’ve noticed. Pretty girl like you, coming out here alone all the time. Eating alone.” She snugged her hat down, and I noticed how frail and bony her hands were. “I wish every day that I wasn’t alone. So what’s bothering you, dear?”
I envisioned what it would’ve been like had Grandmother Belle been as sweet as this old lady. It was hard to imagine. Dare I talk to her? Tell her things? I threw a few more pieces of bread down, the ducks now gathered at my feet. The woman waited patiently for my answer.
I smiled. “I’ve always been alone,” I said. “Until recently.”
A slow grin pulled at her mouth. “You met a boy,” she stated. “I saw him, too. Devilishly handsome, I’d say.” She giggled, and the sound came out squeaky. “Cute tushie.”
I gave a light laugh and nodded. “Yes.” I looked at her. “We both have rough pasts,” I admitted. “Something…happened recently. I think I may have lost him forever.” Tears stung my eyes, just from confessing my fears out loud. I willed them to stay hidden, behind my lids, so they couldn’t be seen.
“I see,” the woman said. “That does happen from time to time.” With one final toss she threw the last of her bread down. “Do you love him?”
The question stabbed me, and I pondered it. “I…don’t know. I’ve never loved anyone before.”
“Well, I declare,” she said softly. “That’s about the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.” She half-turned toward me, crossing her skinny little legs at the knee. “You’ll know if your heart has been lost when you put his needs before yours. When you’ll do anything to keep a smile on his face and pain out of his heart.” Her smile sombered. “I met my Sam when I was only thirteen years old,” she started. “He was fifteen.” She winked. “I like older men.” She gave a soft laugh at her joke, then became lost in her story. “We went to high school together, and then he went off to war. That was the summer of nineteen forty-two. He’d come home on a short leave.” She winked again. “That’s when I got pregnant with our first daughter. When he left, I was terrified he’d never make it back home.”
I watched this old, frail woman, lost in memories from so long ago. Her eyes no longer focused on the present, but to those days in the past. Her old life. Before she became alone.
“After Pearl Harbor was hit by the Japanese, the fellas were high strung, ready for revenge. My Sam was no different.” Her eyes closed then, just for a split second. “Sweet Jesus, that was a good-looking man. Takes my breath away just to think about him.” She opened her eyes and stared ahead, remembering. “Dark blond curls—until the Army shaved it off, of course—sparkling blue eyes, and the grandest laugh you’d ever hear. And I declare, he could dance!”
I sat and listened, completely enthralled. Tossing bits of bread on the ground. Noticing how close the ducks came to my feet to gobble up their snack. I wanted to know more about this love affair from so long ago, and I didn’t have to ask for it. She continued on.
“My Sam landed on Utah Beach in Normandy, France on D-Day, although at the time I didn’t know it. I’d have driven myself madder than a loon, if I had. But he survived, praise Jesus.” She turned to me then, her green eyes clear, crisp, and growing darker as the sun faded. “I begged God that if he brought my Sam back to me that I’d spend ever single day of my life making him happy. God heard me, because my Sam came home.” Her eyes drifted again, back to that day, and the wrinkles eased around her eyes a little. I could see her youthful beauty behind the lines of time. “I’ll never forget that day at the airfield, waiting for him. When he stepped off that plane I thought my heart would burst clean out of my chest!”
Again, tears stung my eyes, and I was shocked at my reaction.
She looked at me. “How does your heart feel when you see your fella?”
I exhaled softly and held her gaze. “Like my heart is going to burst clean out of my chest.”
“Well, then,” she said, and reached with that bony frail hand and patted my knee. “If it’s true love, it will work itself out, my dear. You just remember what I said.” She grasped my hand then, and squeezed. “My name is Clara. What’s yours?”
“Oh, please,” the woman said. “Stay for a while longer, won’t you? And watch the ducks with me.”
Stunned, I just looked at her, and her smile was soft and warm.
“I miss the company of another person, sometimes,” she said. Her green eyes, somber and soft, pleaded. “Won’t you stay?”
Somehow, she’d convinced me with those kind eyes. “All right,” I answered, and settled back down. When I noticed she was watching me close, I gave her a hesitant smile.
“I see you here sometimes,” I said quietly. “With the ducks.”
She nodded, and her bob bouncing along her jaw. She smiled. “I see you, too.”
The ducks had made it to the bench, and were gobbling the bread up as fast as the woman could break it off and toss it down. She handed me a piece, and I took it. Eyeing her, I did what she did: broke the bread into small pieces and threw it down. A fat white duck hurried over, scooped the bread up with his orange bill, tilted his head back, and chugged it down. My mouth tugged, and I grinned. When I glanced at the woman, she was watching me.
“Why are you so sad?” she asked. “I’ve noticed. Pretty girl like you, coming out here alone all the time. Eating alone.” She snugged her hat down, and I noticed how frail and bony her hands were. “I wish every day that I wasn’t alone. So what’s bothering you, dear?”
I envisioned what it would’ve been like had Grandmother Belle been as sweet as this old lady. It was hard to imagine. Dare I talk to her? Tell her things? I threw a few more pieces of bread down, the ducks now gathered at my feet. The woman waited patiently for my answer.
I smiled. “I’ve always been alone,” I said. “Until recently.”
A slow grin pulled at her mouth. “You met a boy,” she stated. “I saw him, too. Devilishly handsome, I’d say.” She giggled, and the sound came out squeaky. “Cute tushie.”
I gave a light laugh and nodded. “Yes.” I looked at her. “We both have rough pasts,” I admitted. “Something…happened recently. I think I may have lost him forever.” Tears stung my eyes, just from confessing my fears out loud. I willed them to stay hidden, behind my lids, so they couldn’t be seen.
“I see,” the woman said. “That does happen from time to time.” With one final toss she threw the last of her bread down. “Do you love him?”
The question stabbed me, and I pondered it. “I…don’t know. I’ve never loved anyone before.”
“Well, I declare,” she said softly. “That’s about the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.” She half-turned toward me, crossing her skinny little legs at the knee. “You’ll know if your heart has been lost when you put his needs before yours. When you’ll do anything to keep a smile on his face and pain out of his heart.” Her smile sombered. “I met my Sam when I was only thirteen years old,” she started. “He was fifteen.” She winked. “I like older men.” She gave a soft laugh at her joke, then became lost in her story. “We went to high school together, and then he went off to war. That was the summer of nineteen forty-two. He’d come home on a short leave.” She winked again. “That’s when I got pregnant with our first daughter. When he left, I was terrified he’d never make it back home.”
I watched this old, frail woman, lost in memories from so long ago. Her eyes no longer focused on the present, but to those days in the past. Her old life. Before she became alone.
“After Pearl Harbor was hit by the Japanese, the fellas were high strung, ready for revenge. My Sam was no different.” Her eyes closed then, just for a split second. “Sweet Jesus, that was a good-looking man. Takes my breath away just to think about him.” She opened her eyes and stared ahead, remembering. “Dark blond curls—until the Army shaved it off, of course—sparkling blue eyes, and the grandest laugh you’d ever hear. And I declare, he could dance!”
I sat and listened, completely enthralled. Tossing bits of bread on the ground. Noticing how close the ducks came to my feet to gobble up their snack. I wanted to know more about this love affair from so long ago, and I didn’t have to ask for it. She continued on.
“My Sam landed on Utah Beach in Normandy, France on D-Day, although at the time I didn’t know it. I’d have driven myself madder than a loon, if I had. But he survived, praise Jesus.” She turned to me then, her green eyes clear, crisp, and growing darker as the sun faded. “I begged God that if he brought my Sam back to me that I’d spend ever single day of my life making him happy. God heard me, because my Sam came home.” Her eyes drifted again, back to that day, and the wrinkles eased around her eyes a little. I could see her youthful beauty behind the lines of time. “I’ll never forget that day at the airfield, waiting for him. When he stepped off that plane I thought my heart would burst clean out of my chest!”
Again, tears stung my eyes, and I was shocked at my reaction.
She looked at me. “How does your heart feel when you see your fella?”
I exhaled softly and held her gaze. “Like my heart is going to burst clean out of my chest.”
“Well, then,” she said, and reached with that bony frail hand and patted my knee. “If it’s true love, it will work itself out, my dear. You just remember what I said.” She grasped my hand then, and squeezed. “My name is Clara. What’s yours?”
