The sad bench

This bench is in the park across the street where I jog, and for some reason it seems to attract sadness.

 

While I jogged today, there was a couple sitting there. They sat close and he had his arm around her. But she looked sad. During one lap around behind them, he hugged her. He held her close in an embrace that looked like he was consoling her. I could only see their body language. By the time they left, she looked happier.

 

I see this happen at least once a month. Last week, a woman sat on this bench alone. She didn't do anything but sit. Most people have at least one phone conversation while they're in the park, or at the minimum watch for and reply to messages or read Facebook or the news or whatever they're doing staring at the tiny screen. She looked around a little but that was all. She didn't look happy. Maybe she was, but she didn't look it.

 

It's a pretty spot in the shade. A person or couple can almost hide in the shadows and behind the crepe myrtle trunks. The grassy square in front of it is surrounded by shrubs and flowers. It's a spot you can fade into.

 

Then a few weeks ago, another couple sat there. They started out close but after a few minutes, they had physically separated on the bench. You know that awkward I-don't-want-to-sit-too-close-because-I'm-really-pissed separation? Her body language was all over the place, and she didn't look pleased. There was a lot of head shaking and arm flying. It looked like some of the break-up conversations I've seen. The couple left while I was on the other side of the park, so I'm not sure if they exited happier. However they left, I hope they're smiling today.

 

I've only had one terribly sad moment in the just over a year I've lived here, but I didn't end up on that bench. Perhaps I'll try it when sadness hits again.

 

Or maybe I'll gravitate there during a really happy moment to try and change the karma on this bench. 

 

Love to the single girls,

Addison