“A beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbor, would you be mine?” The old bench hummed this song to himself every time there was no one around. “Today is a perfect day for sitting here, watching the water, the birds, children playing.”
The old bench had no children, “no chips off the old block”, he amused himself. His life’s purpose was to be here, no matter the weather, to provide comfort and rest. He couldn’t see, facing the water, but could hear them–different voices, soft, sweet coos of babies, chattering toddlers, lovers speaking softly and old people shuffling along muttering. He loved them all, appreciated their differences and hoped they would choose him to rest upon.