“May I share this bench? She asks.
I’ll keep quiet, I promise.”
High above the ocean
in a graceful place
a stranger sits beside me
dressed in black
high-heeled elegance
and feminine beauty
We sit together and apart
I’ve come to feed my soul
to read and write words
of consolation to a grieving mother
The stranger turns to me
her face etched in sorrow
beneath heavy make-up
“What are you reading?” She asks
“A book of meditation
that gives me peace.”
Her questions prod deeper
“What are you writing?”
I’m surprised at her boldness
and tell her the truth…
“About the sadness of a son’s suicide”
“Why was he so depressed?”
She searches my eyes
reaching for answers I can’t give
I take a chance
“Why are you asking?”
Her walls begin to crack
“I am terribly depressed myself
My children have abandoned me
I am their Mother!”
She tells me her story
I listen. Aware it is a gift to her
to listen and to hear
Tears break through the dam
Her children are spoiled…
ungrateful. Want it all.
Their father gave them things
but taught them disrespect
and then went to his grave
“I don’t know what to do”
From her center’s depths, she cries
I can’t help hugging her
and feel her pain begin to ease
Love wraps round both of us
beyond the cold of a stone bench
beyond un-answered questions
For now, it is enough
Jean E. Taddonio
No Thing Ordinary 