I entered the park as an afterthought. Around a small enclosure intended for basking and pigeon feeding were three benches of the cement variety with no backs and stubby legs that made them rather close to the ground. Each bench was occupied by an elderly woman.

As I approached the bench nearest to me and sat down, I asked the woman there if she minded if I sat next to her, and she didn't answer me, but grunted her disapproval and looked the other way. I took notice of the fact that she had on what appeared to be at least three layers of clothing and wondered if she were cold why she chose to sit in the shade. Neither of us spoke for several minutes, and as I was thinking my own thoughts I was suddenly startled when she sharply rapped my ankle with her cane, and then lifted it sword-like and pointed in the direction of the lake.

"You see that woman over there?"

"Over where?"

"Over there, you fool. Over there."

I looked more diligently, and noticed a rather hunched over woman strolling in the path that encircled the lake. "Yes, I see her", I replied.

"That's Lucy. She comes into my house at night and steals things out of my pantry. Cookies. And tuna fish. I haven't been able to catch her in the act yet, but when I do, she'll be very sorry."

I wasn't sure what to say. "Oh", I replied. "I'm sorry to hear that."

She started to say something else, but then winced as though in pain and settled for mumbling something I couldn't make out.

"Are you alright?"

"No, I'm not alright. I'm miserable. Damned doctors can't figure out what's wrong with me. They say it's just old age but I know it's something more. Damned idiots. They'll let anyone be a doctor these days." She spent several moments shifting and grunting in order to better illustrate her apparent discomfort.

I found myself apologizing again. "Can I help? Is there anything I can do?"

"You? Why would you be able to help? Who are you, anyway? Do you know Gladys? Did Gladys send you? She's so nosy. She's always meddling in other people's affairs, the fucking bitch."

I drew back, alarmed, not so much by the language, but by the utter hatred that propelled those words from her mouth, with the force it would take to rid your stomach of rancid food. As I made no attempt to reply, she once again turned away in disapproval.

"I feel I've unintentionally disturbed you. I'll leave you to your thoughts." She appeared to take no notice of my departure.

I thought of walking around the lake, but felt distressed by the conversation that had just transpired and sought to sit down once again. The next bench looked inviting, and I took a seat by a woman quite absorbed in tossing tiny pieces of bread to the birds, tearing off the morsels from a very stale looking loaf. I had and inkling that she glanced at me a bit fretfully.

I tilted my head back to seek the sun, but found that while this bench was not completely shaded, the leaves of a large elm tree dotted us with shadows. Still, it seemed pleasant. After several moments, I felt more than saw the woman next to me packing up her belongings as if to go.

"I thought you might like this bench to yourself", she said.

"Oh, no. Quite the contrary. I'd enjoy the company."

"Oh. Well, if you really don't mind." It occurred to me as she settled back down and resumed her pigeon feeding that, after all, I had invaded her territory and perhaps I should move. "I can sit elsewhere, if you'd like."

"Oh, no. No, no, no. I've really been taking up space on this bench long enough." Once again, she appeared to be readying herself to leave, and I felt compelled to convince her that she had a perfect right to stay.

"Please, sit down. There's plenty of room on this bench for both of us."

"Well, if you insist." She sat again, but seemed unsure of the arrangement. Most of the pigeons had wandered off by this time, but as her hands began to feed those that remained, a small crowd of them once again gathered at our feet. They were grey and almost lifeless looking, one hardly distinguishable from the other. We both sat watching as they pecked about.

"I baked this bread three weeks ago, but it really wasn't very good, and nobody ate it, so I thought the birds might enjoy it".

"The birds certainly seem to like it", I replied, trying to sound cheerful. "Do you have a big family?"

"Oh, no; well, yes, but I live alone now. My husband, Fred, I lost him almost ten years ago. The kids come to see me when they can, but they are so very busy...they have their families..." Her thought seemed to trail off unfinished. The last of the bread hit the ground and disappeared into the beak of a pigeon.

I felt the sudden urge to reach over and touch this woman, to connect with her in some subtle way, but before I could act on the impulse she had risen from the bench saying, "I really should be going now" and took off in the direction of some squat, gray buildings that stood on the east side of the little park. I watched her leave with a great sadness, one that I couldn't completely comprehend. I had no right to feel sorry for this woman.

I sat alone for several moments, absorbing the impact of a stranger. Upon glancing up, I noticed the woman on the third bench looking at me, smiling.

"Would you like to come and sit by me?"

I felt an emotion I can only describe as gratitude. As I rose and walked to her bench, I noticed the brightly colored afghan she had spread beneath her to sit upon and the open book in her lap. She was wearing a large-brimmed hat to protect her face from the sun.

"You remind me so much of my granddaughter. You're very pretty."

I think I may have blushed. "What are you reading?"

"Something my son sent me last week. Although, I must admit, I've barely read a page. I feels so good to just sit here."

"Yes. Yes it does."

I relaxed and let the sun warm my face. It was a lovely day.