The Door

Well looks like I’m on a roll.  Good start for the year...2 for 2  Todays “topic” was to contemplate a work of art and write a short paragraph or two about it as if you entered its world.  I thought what better than to do one of Jill’s awesome photos as seen on:  http://www.flickr.com/photos/jillketchum/4555016700/

I saw him.  He sat across the street on a park bench.  He was there everyday staring at the entrance to our building.  He looked expectant and small in comparison with his big city surroundings.  I was drawn to him and sensed his longing.  Was he waiting for someone?  Was he looking for someone?  Had he lost someone close?   

Everyday I left cubical world, entered the elevator, traveled down eight floors, through the revolving door and out onto the street.  Faithfully he was there.  In the last five years of my life he was the only constant I could count on.  One of these days, I said to myself, I would get up the nerve to walk across the street and talk to him.  But everyday was wrought with its own time constraints, problems, priorities.  Finally, these excuses ran out; it was now or never.  The phones were silent and all the work was done for the day.  I prepared myself with a mental list of questions I could ask him.  I put on my scarf and grey peacoat and stepped into the elevator.  I walked through the revolving door and out onto the street.  I was greeted by a sharp wind from the west, stinging my face, making my eyes water.  I started across the street, eager to talk to this man.  I wiped the water from my eyes and had a clear view of the bench.  But it was empty.  The old man was gone.  He never came back.

Maybe one day I will add more to this, but for now this is all I have.