I met a rose today. She sat down next to me at a park bench. The wind was blowing, and clouds were rolling in, the afternoon bringing a moody dusk. Two strangers. I looked over at her and saw one tear slowly slip quietly down her face. I don’t know what possessed me, but I held out my hand. She looked at it at first, then slowly took my hand. Quietly one tear turned to two, then 4, then 8 until I lost count.
I don’t know how long we sat there.
Me in quiet companionship.
Her in quiet melancholy.
Finally, there was a stillness.
Of the quiet calm after a brooding storm.
She looked at me smiled, gave my hand a squeeze, and got up and left.
I looked up at the now dark sky.
The first drop of the heavens opening up, dropped on my cheek. Someone once said to me that water heals. Water releases. Water cleanses. And this right here felt as though the rain was mourning along with the quiet stranger, whose presence I still felt on the empty seat next to mine.
And I smiled.
Hoping my presence had left her a bit lighter than when she first sat on an empty park bench next to a lonely stranger, who no longer felt so alone.