Sometimes I see something and it moves me.
It could be just the way the light is falling, in a field, or in the garden, or filtering through a window on a wall.
It could be a sweet potato, forgotten in a pantry cupboard that has sprouted vines (this did happen) and looks wonderfully “arty” somehow.
At the moment I’m entranced by a tree of life sculpture sitting up on a chest of drawers in my bedroom, that if you place a candle in front of it, it makes the shadow of a tree appear on the wall behind it, and when the flame dances the shadow tree sways, and this delights me immensely.
They say that small things amuse small minds, so theoretically my mind must be tiny, because I’m amused, and moved very easily.
I have a thing about benches.
Not all benches but particular benches…certainly OLD wooden benches, nothing modern or shiny silver like bus stop benches.
Certain benches ‘speak to me”.
They beckon me…
We’ll be driving in the car and suddenly I’ll yell to my husband “Stop the car!!!! There’s a bench!”
He hates this. Really hates it.
“One of these days you’re going to cause an accident!” he shouts.
I know. (Looking sheepish)
I do have a habit of giving my husband heart attacks while in the car, especially if I think we’re about to hit a bird or something.
I hate that and it always makes me SCREAM, and cover my face.
“Jesus, don’t DO that!” he says.
Mostly he tells me…
“I can’t turn here! There’s nowhere to stop! God…you have no idea about driving do you?”
I just see a lovely bench and I want to stop so I can look at it and maybe take a photo.
Does this sound a bit weird?
It probably does.
I’m not like one of those objectum sexuals. Ever heard of that? I watched a documentary once, where people develop an intense attraction to things like bridges, and fences, and possibly benches.
They even get married to them. (Have sex with them…aha…I kid you not. Gives new meaning to “sitting on the fence” I tell ya! My innocence is shattered.)
It’s very odd, but….each to their own, I guess.
It’s just that empty benches look so beautifully pensive.
So… full of forgotten memories.
How many people have sat on THAT particular bench and what were they thinking as they sat there?
Were they yearning for a lost love?
Grieving a loved one?
Contemplating their own mortality, their life, the meaning of existence?
Were they awaiting some secret rendezvous?
Or simply feeding ducks?
Empty benches just beg so many questions don’t they, and what if something of the emotional state of the person or persons who have sat upon that bench have left some kind of residue behind. Nothing nasty you understand…..more like emotional residue?
I think that can happen you know.
I feel it in houses sometimes, like something has been left behind in the walls.
It happens with indoor furniture too…like some sort of furniture karma or something.
So why not empty benches?
It’s not just me, I know it’s not because if you google “empty benches” you will see hundreds of beautiful photographs of empty benches, so obviously there is a whole community of empty bench enthusiasts out there.
I particularly like old wooden benches sat in places like cemeteries, or overlooking the ocean, or in a rustic park like setting, but sometimes I see them on peoples front porches, and there they can also have a pensive – full of promise kind of look.
Like an air of expectation…the waiting that is done on benches.
Hope! Some benches promise hope.
Others, like in cemeteries speak of loss and mourning, and of years of precious love.
One day I should like to buy my own rustic wooden bench to sit on my front porch.
It will have to be a certain kind…have a certain feel about it. Definitely nothing new.
I want something that has emotions steeped into it. A history, a secret past all of its own.
I will know it when I see it. It will speak to me.
In the meantime, I shall continue with my infrequent relations with strange benches that I happen to see whizzing by as we’re driving.
I will continue to shout at my husband to “Quick…..stop!” and he will continue to roll his eyes and sigh heavily and express his undying love and patience for me.
He’s a very lucky man.
Most women are screaming to stop the car because they’ve just seen the most wonderfully glamorous ( ridiculously expensive) pair of shoes in a shop window.
My husband should think himself lucky that I just like benches.
So much so that one, looking out across the ocean, inspired a song.