Five o’clock – A One-minute Story
It was five o’clock. He was waiting for the lights to turn green. The window rolled down to let the late afternoon warmth in, he looked around aimlessly at the bustle of evening rush hour traffic. People on foot, on bicycles, in cars, buses and trams, all on their way home from work. A chaotic tangle of people on the move, a busy whirring of bodies with one clear common goal: to get back together with the ones they love after a day’s work.
It had been a hot and sunny day, and everyone was eager to get home quickly. With a good few hours of daylight remaining, the evening promised to be long and lush, and full of beckoning opportunities. And as the sun not only warms the earth but also the hearts of people, that typical mild and laidback atmosphere of summer could be felt throughout the city. Over in the park children were playing in the sun, people were sitting on benches in the shade chatting, and everywhere commuters were wearing their friendly faces.
Looking around, his wandering gaze settled on a woman at the bus stop, just in front of the park. She was standing beside a stroller with a little baby, a boy maybe two years old. The boy was playing happily with a colorful toy, tossing and turning it in his hands, oblivious of all the commotion around him. His mother was standing beside him, waiting for the bus, deeply in thought. She had positioned herself at the edge of a sunlit patch, so she could enjoy the sun while keeping the stroller in the shade, protecting her baby from the heat and the harsh rays of the sun. The mother and boy didn’t pay attention to each other, they were totally immersed in their private worlds. But it was obvious they felt secure in the comfort of each other’s presence.
For some reason the woman had caught his attention. His eyes were drawn to her, got stuck, and he just couldn’t look away. Instead he studied her intensely. He wanted to know why she stood out from the crowd, what it was about her that broke the indifference with which he had been watching the other passers-by. Looking at her somehow made him feel sad and nostalgic, but at the same time also gave him a distinctly warm feeling of consolation. He wanted to explore these mixed feelings, find out where they came from and what they meant.
Perhaps it was the casual way in which she was standing beside her son, how they were carelessly enjoying the afternoon sun. Or how they unquestionably belonged together. Perhaps it was because her love and caring comfort for the baby were beyond any doubt. They were united by an invisible but clearly present bond, the bond that allows a child the freedom to explore the world knowing its mother is always there, looking out, watching over, taking care. With consolation only a faint cry away.
This union between parent and child, the warm bond that every child deserves, experienced by two complete strangers on a sunny afternoon made him feel sad and nostalgic. It reminded him of when he himself was still a little boy in the comfort of his family, in a faraway world it seemed, so long ago now the memory had almost gotten forever lost in the cracks and crevasses of the everyday humdrum. And its distant memory, although beautiful, made him sad, because he knew it was indeed forever lost. Because he knew it would never return, and because he knew not every child always gets what it deserves.
The dance of life comes in many rhythms, and not everyone is an equally good dancer. Some prefer a different tune, some are just plain clumsy, and some tread on each other’s toes once too often. And when the rhythm breaks down and the music stops and there is no more point in dancing, we are suddenly confronted by the stillness of the barren floor. Some of us are lucky enough to waltz through life in blissful ignorance of this desolate solitude, but for others it is a harsh lesson learned way too early.
When she caught his stare, the woman looked at him cautiously for a moment, then smiled, as if to say she knew what he was thinking and trusted him. Her smile was not a woman’s smile, but that of a mother. The kind of smile that puts a baby to sleep night after night, and greets it happily into a new day every morning. A smile that tells other people how proud she is to be a mother, how well she feels in the presence of her child. Her smile invited him to take part in the joy of human happiness she was experiencing.
He didn’t smile back. He knew she couldn’t possibly know what he was thinking. And he knew he could never accept the invitation. For they were on opposite sides of a line which he had crossed a long time ago. They were living in different worlds, dancing a different dance, moving to a different rhythm. And the realization that his feet were happy and he would never want to go back made him feel sad. But the woman’s smile also gave solace, because it reassured him there was still someone on the other side, looking out.
The sudden honk of a car horn startled him. He looked up. The lights had turned green. The driver behind him was urging him to move on. He put the car in first gear and drove off, his attention shifting back to the busy traffic. He was almost home, almost back together with the one he loved. The woman and her baby were still waiting at the bus stop, in the warmth of the afternoon sun, together by themselves. An island of security, comfort and love in the hectic rush hour world.
G.
Tags: love, parenthood, story
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September 12, 2008 at 08:56
[...] Eelen presents Five o’clock – A One-minute Story posted at Roughly [...]
September 14, 2008 at 02:49
Wow. That’s good. I like it. Did you write it? If so, applause.