She sat on the park bench, a solitary figure. Her long grey hair caught in the breeze and her shoulders were hunched inward to ward off the chill. She was mindless to all but the young girl that skipped towards her.
The six-year-old girl came to stop in front of the old woman and smiled up at her with a toothless grin. Her bright red hair was tamed into braids and her green eyes sparkled with life and curiosity.
“Who are you?” the girl asked as she studied the old woman’s wrinkled face.
“Mary,” the old woman replied lovingly, delighted by the attention of the youngster.
“My name is Mary too,” the girl exclaimed with glee before her expression turned serious and she declared, “You’re old.”
The old woman chuckled and said, “So I am, and one day you will be too.”
“Nope, I’ll never be as old as you,” Mary assured her with the faith of the young and carefree. “I’m going to be a nurse and a super-hero and movie star!”
The old woman smiled her spirit filled with awe at the girl’s easy dreams. “I truly hope, Mary that you will be all that you desire.”
The girl’s name was called in the distance and with a wave good-bye she told the old woman, “I have to go now.”
“I know, so do I. Good-bye Mary,” the old woman called as the young girl disappeared into the morning sun. But still she sat.
A short while later a figure moved toward her, a willowy teen clad ripped jeans and a leather jacket. Her hair, dyed a light shade of pink was short and spiky and her green eyes glittered with hostility as she looked upon the old woman.
“What are you looking at old woman,” the teen demanded with a glare.
The woman smiled at the girl’s bravado, knowing that it was mostly show. “I’m looking at the past and future.”
The teen arched a pierced eyebrow giving the woman reflecting belief that the old woman was insane. “Did someone forget to give you your meds today or what?”
Again, she smiled, “Something like that. Where are you rushing off to young lady?”
The teen, unsure why she was compelled to even speak the old woman, gave a look of superiority and said, “There is a peace rally on the other side of the park. I’m protesting the war.”
The woman nodded in understanding. “That’s a noble cause.”
“Someone has to do something,” the teen, mistaking the old woman’s understanding for condescension defended her beliefs, “the government is completely ruining this country. There will be nothing left for my generation if this keeps up.”
“It is important to fight for what you believe in,” the old woman advised. “Remember to always follow your heart and keep fighting for what you believe, even when it hard.”
The teen simply nodded at her before saying, “I’ve gotta go now.”
“I know, so do I,” the old woman replied as the girl with the pink hair disappeared across the park to fight the good fight. But still she sat as the sun dipped lower behind the trees.
A woman, weeping, blinding walking along the path caused the old woman to stir from her thoughts. “Child, what’s wrong?” she asked the approaching woman.
This middle-aged woman’s auburn hair was styled short, her clothes, though wrinkled were professional and stylish. Her green eyes were bright with tears as she sat down on the bench next to the old woman. She shook her head, unable to answer for the sobs that racked her body.
The old woman placed a thin arm around the woman’s shoulders, offering her the comfort that sometimes only another woman can provide. Finally the crying subsided and the woman composed herself.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall apart like that,” she told the old woman with a bleak look.
“It’s quite alright, dear. Sometimes, you have to let all the hurt out before you can begin to heal.”
She studied the old woman, her lined face was comforting and her eyes, so close to the color of her own, were kind and wise. She felt the desire to confide in this stranger on a park bench.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do. My husband has left me,” she explained, pain and anger evident in tone.
The old woman reached out a soft, wrinkled hand to the woman. “I know that now, when the betrayal is fresh, it is hard to see that this may be a good thing.”
“How can this be a good thing?” she cried. “I have two children at home; I am stuck in a job I hate. A job that I took so that my louse of a husband could get his business up and running. Now I am left with two kids to raise, a mortgage, and hole inside of me that I don’t think will ever be filled again. And I’m so very, very tired.”
“Have faith my dear, you will survive. You will become stronger and find your way. You will love again. These things I swear to you.”
The younger woman searched the old woman’s face and saw the truth of her words. Her spirit was soothed, and although still hurt and scared, she wasn’t desperate. “Thank you for your faith. I have to go now.”
“As do I,” the old woman said. But still she sat as night fell.
In the darkness she heard voices and she leaned forward expectantly as young Mary, with the braids and the zeal for life, teen Mary, with the pink hair and burning desire to save the world, and middle-aged Mary, with the broken heart but not broken
spirit, appeared in a circle of light, each with an outstretched hand beckoning her to join them.
“We’ve got to go now Mary,” the called in unison. The old woman stood and stepped into the light. The child, the maiden, the mother and crone all merged together as the light carried them to their next destination.
