This Bench Used To Be Ours

Short little anecdote/short story about a bench and a boy. Enjoy.

Say his name, and a thousand memories come swimming back like salmon trying to swim upstream. They fight, and I fight right back. Every single morning I walk past the place where we sat, and the fish come flooding back, fighting to mess with my head, threatening to ruin my day.

For half a year, my life was comprised of schoolwork, music, and him. He was my main priority, although sometimes I didn't know if I was his. Often times I felt that I was trying harder than he was, and it hurt.

Yet, when I pass the place that was ours, that used to be ours, I can't help but think I made a terrible mistake. I see the wooden seat in my front lawn, with the black ceramic detailing, I remember the day when he asked if I would be his girlfriend. I see the wooden seat that sits under the big peach tree, and I remember when he kissed me for the first time in the rain. I see the bench and every remark that was made about how it was OUR bench pours into my ears like a waterfall and I want it back.

I miss every kiss, I miss every touch. I miss him walking me home from school on Monday's and sitting on my driveway, our shoulders touching, just being together. I miss hearing him say “I love you,” when he would hold me. I miss the first few months. I miss the happiness I felt.

Then I remember the sadness and the anger I felt, and still feel. We didn't communicate very well, and it wasn't healthy. There was jealousy and miscommunication and it became too much for both of us.

I don't regret the time we shared. I just regret how it ended.

 

I'm not proud of it, but it had to happen. I don't think either of us were really happy anymore.

I walked past the bench this morning, like always, but this time I stopped and really looked at it. I am a firm believer in the philosophy that you don't really see something until you're meant to. I pass that bench every day and I used to sit on it waiting for him or sit with him, but I never really saw it.

It's been stained to be redder than the natural wood and the legs are the same shiny black metal from the detailing on the back. All of that I could see. But what I wasn't seeing was how peaceful it looked just sitting in the lawn, sprinkled with fallen peach blossoms. I could see the forgotten figures of he and I, sitting with our feet up on the seat, touching, and talking about nothing.

I could see myself laughing and him smiling at me, as if I were sunshine after a week long thunderstorm. I could see him slowly inching over towards me to put his arm around my shoulder. I could see me letting him.

In that moment, tears welled up in my eyes and I took a deep breath. I didn't make a mistake. I walked away and continued down my drive to my waiting ride.

This bench used to be ours, but now it's theirs. The two lovers that were once happy, the ghosts of our past. This bench belongs to them.

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