The Park

The sun played with the leaves of the elm tree and cast a warm speckled shadow on the grass below. It was a pleasant Spring afternoon and many among the people of Thurville were playing, conversing, or dozing among the bushes and the willows, oaks and elms of Hertford Center Park. Kappa was one of these people. As he lay on his blue-green patchwork blanket and warmed his closed eyelids with the recesses of light falling through the elm’s canopy, he took a long breath and smiled as the pleasant smells of the park drifted into his nostrils. Beside Kappa sat Geb and Will. All three were young men of lean build and hair not particularly light or dark. Besides the occasional passerby was a solitary man of wrinkled aspect who sat nearby on a bench and took long, steady pulls from a wooden pipe.

                “It’s not often such nice weather comes along,” said Kappa. “This warmth is just what I needed, though.”

                Will nodded. “Exactly. It seems like the moment the dreariness of the rain and endless nights in the library begins to become overbearing, the clouds part and give way to days like this.”

                Geb grunted, half-listening to the conversation as he lifted himself to a hand-stand on the grass.

                “I’d go mad if there were no moments like this.” Geb’s voice was slightly strained as he concentrated on keeping balance. “You need time to get away from your brain. I had nearly forgotten I was capable of anything besides math problems and Latin.”

                Will grinned and rolled himself against Geb’s ground-planted hands, forcing the latter to tumble into the grass. Geb swore and Kappa laughed.

                “Or maybe you’ve gone totally insane,” playfully chided Kappa, “and everything around you is a fraud.”

                Geb laughed. “Maybe!”

                The old man closed his eyes as he took a long draw from his pipe. He exhaled in a pleasurable sigh and released a cloud which a musing spectator may well be inclined to think was a visible essence of his contentment. This wrinkled character had already had ample time to contemplate such things, and was now focusing on a more particular matter underneath the elm tree.

                “The boy is right, it is a beautiful day.” He mused with a smile. “And he certainly seems to be enjoying his conversation.” He paused to take a pull from his pipe.

                He released the puff with a thoughtful sigh. The cloud embraced him and gave an air of sympathy as the wrinkles about his eyes pinched and seemed to magnify the scrutiny of his thoughts.

                “Perhaps his condition allows him more happiness than others. Surely one can enjoy another’s company, but it is more convenient to simply imagine your companions. And what better friends are there than those which the mind creates for the sole purpose of appeasing itself? And look what he does now.”

                Kappa watched Geb lift himself onto a lower branch of the elm. The limb was slightly above his head, and only after he pulled his body to hang on the branch like a cloth on a clothesline was he able to maneuver his legs and sit properly on the tree.

                “You’re a natural acrobat today, Geb.” Kappa said in amusement.

                Will laughed. “You should stop lingering around the school and follow your true calling at the circus.”

                “Make all the fun you will,” said Geb, “but three weeks from now when the rain and clouds have made you two forget the sunlight I’ll at least have the recollection that I made the most out of today.”

                “And maybe you’ll have a broken leg as a souvenir of the day’s escapades to accompany your happy recollections.”

                Geb threw a twig at Will. “Well, are you two coming up? Or have your muscles atrophied beyond use?”

                The wrinkled man continued to spectate, the occasional puff never failing to rise above his temples. He arched his brows in curiosity as the boy walked under the tree’s lowest branch. He raised his arm to the branch as if compelling it or some shade within it to lift him. He swore when there was no result, and then went about pulling himself onto the limb.

                The old man listened as the boy’s voice trailed to his bench:

                “Will, you coming?”

                He held his breath as silent moments passed.

                The boy stared at the lawn below the tree and then shrugged. “Suit yourself. Geb was right, it feels nice to set your body to a task.” He laughed. “I may even get sore and have something to remind me of my limbs in the days to come.”

                The man released his breath and let the forthcoming smoke blanket his whiskers.

                “A very curious boy. He may live in a mirage, but if he is content in his place, does the difference between mirage and reality matter? He’s happier than many people without invisible companions.”

                He took a long pull from his pipe and stretched his back against the bench, letting the smoke rise from his mouth as his vertebrae made soothing pops upwards along his spine.

                “If happiness is life’s ultimate goal, he may have a window to achievement. However, if truth is requisite, would this boy be alienated from the race to real solace?” The man’s wrinkles gathered between his eyebrows in a quizzical expression.

                He tried to pull his pipe but to no avail: only ashes remained in the wooden bowl.

                “Well, the pipe is finished and you haven’t said a word! You’ve been awfully quiet this afternoon.” He looked to his gray-haired companion on the bench and laughed.

                “Oh well. We mustn’t tarry. Shall we begin our evening walk?”