I Think You'll Understand [Boston Commons]

by Aileen Ma

Nobody could ever love the park more than Susy and Benji. Not even the Swans that called the Commons their home. Every afternoon after being released from Ms. Davey’s first grade class they made their way here.

Her vividly auburn and erratically tousled head of hair and his unruly black hair dancing along with their tiny frames. His good natured smile and her silly foot stomping. Their races against each other, against the lake, against the swans. Their impeccable taste in acorns. And the classification of friendly versus mean-spirited squirrels.

Collapsing in exhaustion on their favorite bench overlooking the main path. People watching. Tiny fingers tired from Ms. Davey’s alphabet games and so much more. Mud-streaked Short pants and knee highs to account for later.

An old couple, a stout old white-haired woman and a taller old man with sunglasses and a newsboy cap on walk by, on their daily walk. The old woman, back slightly hunched, walks in front, leading the old man through the loop of a handbag she carries and he clutches even as he holds a red and white walking cane.

For many days now, Susy and Benji have wanted to say hi. For now, they gaze with large, questioning eyes full of wonder. The same wonder that sparkles in their eyes as they examine grooves on tree trunks and greet little chicks and ducks that waddle about.

The old woman continues, almost ambling into a streetlamp, but stopping just in time. She pauses and stops her old walking partner, and clasps his hand ever so gently. Whispers something in a loud voice.

Sunlight glistens. The old couple smiles. Bump noses with affection, never mind the old sunglasses that hang over the bridge of his nose.

There. The Old woman has readjusted them. They pause once more, and now they’re holding hands.

Susy and Benji watch as they walk away. Then, after a while, break out in smiles. Reach out to each other pudgy hands to hold.

Jump off the bench, and return to their grand adventure.