Adventures In An Oatmeal Sweater

This park bench would not appear to have a maginficent story of any kind. It's once protected and gleaming wood now carries grey hues reflecting its years of service. For years, it has offered a place for the tired to sit or the nervous to hide or the reflective souls to watch as others passed by. This park bench would not appear to be any different than the others nearby. Why then do the wooden slats seem to resonate energy as I sit upon its bench? An energy so intense it envelopes my senses; allowing me to smell the faint scent of mint soap - and feel the warmth of the sun on my back. The backrest curves around my shoulders - enveloping them the way a lover would. Closing my eyes I allow myself to be transported and remember snippets of a life so far removed from my present state it causes me to ponder if it happened at all- Casual strolls by the water; Locking eyes for the first time with someone that I am certain I've known for lifetimes before this one;