Future on a Park Bench

I am amazed and gratified to have gotten so many positive comments on my Headstone story. I have been stupified by the number of people who have asked if I have written other stories. I have some that are OK..some so terrible they are locked in a lead lined box I have buried in my basement to prevent their massive suckage from ever polluting the world. This is a short story I wrote two years ago. I think some have read it...hard to remember who. I hope you enjoy it (all 6 of you). As always...comments or suggestions are ALWAYS welcome!

Future on a Park Bench

Last night I had a dream.

At least, I think it was a dream. It had a solid sort of quality, a firm feeling of reality to it that makes me reluctant to dismiss it as dream, yet leaves me uncertain about how to qualify it. If it wasn’t a dream, I’m not sure what it could have been. A vision? Time travel? ESP? No prior context in my life outside of science fiction/fantasy is any help. All I know for sure is something happened, something that has changed me as surely as the rising sun transforms the night sky.

I went to bed with no expectation other than to have a restful night’s sleep. It had been a long and difficult day in the classroom. The kids were off, academically as well as behaviorally and that one, two combination never makes for an easy day. My head hit the pillow and I closed my eyes in the hope that sleep would come quickly.

As is the way with dreams, the next thing I knew I suddenly found myself sitting on a park bench. I looked around with great surprise. Instead of lying in my bed enjoying a good night’s rest, I was fully clothed and sitting in a park in the middle of an incredibly beautiful day. I looked up into a flawless spring sky. Not a cloud in sight, the sky a shade of striking blue that only photographers for postcards seem to be able to capture. The temperature was perfect, the kind of warmth that cries out for shorts and t-shirt but doesn’t smother you with oppressive heat. A gentle breeze was blowing and I gratefully closed my eyes and turned my face into its caress, smiling as it tossed the hair on my forehead the way a lover in a playful mood would do.

I opened my eyes and looked around at my new surroundings. It was not a park I recognized. Rolling grassy hills dotted with couples sitting on blankets. Children chasing after each other in play. Dogs bounding after them, in constant danger of being stepped on, yet somehow always avoiding it. The paths that moved around these hills like concrete snakes were likewise occupied by people doing the types of activities that were made for days like this. Walking, running, rollerblading, dog walking. Every face a portrait of mid spring contentment. Enjoying the light breeze I sat back with a contented sigh to people watch. I took in the peacefulness of the scene before me like a blind man seeing a work of fine art for the first time. I felt like I could stay on this wooden park bench forever without complaint.

My reverie was interrupted by a woman’s voice.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

I turned to the voice’s owner. A beautiful young woman stood at my bench. She appeared to be in her late twenties. Long brown hair, the color of an ancient cedar chest, fell to her shoulders in beautiful waves. Mischievous hazel eyes regarded me inquisitively, awaiting a response to their question. She wore a beautiful yellow sundress, no sleeves, allowing her delicate freckled shoulders to take full advantage of the ample sunlight supplied by the day. She was fairly tall. My eyes squinted from the sun as I glanced up at her. I was struck with the thought that I knew this girl, yet from where or when I had no idea.

“My bench is your bench,” I replied with what I thought was a safe and welcoming smile.

“Gracias,” she replied.

She sat beside me and tilted her face to the breeze, closing her eyes just as I myself had done just five minutes before. A smattering of freckles danced across her cheeks and nose like the seeds of a dandelion blown by a small child. She let out a contented sigh, again one very much like my own. My mind was spinning as I fought to figure out why she seemed so familiar to me. High school? College? Work? None of these places triggered a memory of this beautiful face. It did not seem a face I would be likely to forget.

She opened her eyes and looked at me.

“Can you believe this weather,” she asked.

“No, it’s really amazing,” I replied. And still my mind worked to place the face. It seemed ridiculous really. My mind was fully conscious of the fact that my body should be safely tucked in my bed, sleeping off a difficult day. My mind knew that the farthest place I should be was this wonderful park, sitting on a bench, talking to a beautiful woman. Yet still...here I was. The nagging persistence that I knew her would not go away.

She smiled. It was a beautiful smile, revealing a perfect set of white teeth. There was kindness in that smile but also laughter, as if she could read my mind.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

I laughed. “You wouldn’t believe me,” I replied.

“Try me.”

“OK,” I sighed, “here we go. This is going to sound like the world’s oldest pickup line but…”

I stopped because she began to giggle as well as smile. There was a light dancing in her eyes. She was playing with me on some level I couldn’t yet understand. And her eyes said she was enjoying the game.

“This is not a pickup line, but I can’t get the idea out of my head that I know you from somewhere. Do I? Or has this amazing weather simply made my mind go soft?”

Her giggles, the beauty of the day put into sound, continued.

“Yes, you do know me,” she said. “But you will never guess in a million years where you know me from.”

More giggling. Giggles threatening with each second to turn into out right laughter.

“OK,” I said. “Are you going to give me any help or is this going to turn into the world’s longest guessing game?”

She made a forcible effort to contain the giggles, packing them away the way one might try to shove too much clothing into a small suitcase. After a moment or two she took a deep breath and responded. “First let me introduce myself, as polite and civilized people often do when meeting. My name is Caroline.”

I smiled. “Caroline. That’s funny, I have a daughter named Car….”

I stopped in mid-sentence because the most absurd idea in the world crashed into my mind like a runaway train. It managed to feel completely insane and completely true at the same time. This young woman I was sharing a park bench with. This was no stranger. This was a person dearer to my heart than any other. My joy.

My eyes must have widened betraying the thought in my mind because she smiled again and nodded. “Yes daddy. It’s me.”

Words left, ran out with the speed of a thousand waterfalls. Thoughts swirled in my mind with the force of a thousand tornadoes. Caroline? My little Caroline? Impossible. Caroline is three years old. She still needs to step on a stool to reach the sink when she brushes her teeth! I knew this had to be a joke. Some crazy prank. Or perhaps, my mind tossed in, it is really just a dream. How did you come to be in this mystery park with its to perfect weather anyway? A dream; has to be. I seized on this idea, had to seize on it, for nothing else made sense.

As these thoughts raced through my mind the young woman continued to regard me with that same bemused, laughing smile. “I know what you are thinking daddy, but it really is me.”

“No,” I replied. “That’s impossible. I don’t know who you are or how you know I have a daughter named Caroline but you aren’t her, CAN’T be her. I just put her to bed myself an hour ago after her bath.”

“I know,” she replied, still smiling. “I remember.”

“This is ludicrous!” I whispered. But somewhere in my mind I knew that, as hard as it was to believe, this young woman was my daughter. I knew it the way I know I love my wife, my family. The way I know some things are wrong and some things are right, without question. There was no grey area, no ambiguity. Some things you just can’t explain. Some things don’t HAVE to be explained. To even attempt would be the equivalent of attempting to count the stars and record their numbers.

“Is it really you Caroline,” I gasped. “How can I be sure?”

“What does your heart tell you daddy?”

“My heart? My heart tells me it is you, some how, some way grown. But my head refuses to believe it. I...I'm sorry.”

At this she began to laugh again. “That’s my dad,” she says. “Always needing proof of what is as clear as day right in front of his face.”

My face reddened but I shrugged. She had me there.

“It’s ok,” she giggled. “I love you anyway. Go ahead. This will be fun. Ask me a question that only your daughter would know.”

I thought for a moment. Then I realized there was no need. I was looking at my darling Caroline, somehow grown, somehow here with me in the present.

“I don’t need a question,” I told her. “A hug will do.”

Still smiling, now with eyes that swam with tears, we embraced there on that magic park bench. As soon as her arms surrounded me and mine her, the last little shred of doubt was erased. I was hugging my little girl.

I couldn’t tell you how long we hugged one another, no words exchanged. Eventually she pulled back and I was relieved to see I was not the only one with tear tracks on the cheeks.

“But how?” I asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t really know dad. I was just taking a walk out on this gorgeous day and when I saw you on the bench, I just knew. I don’t know how. I don’t know why. Does the reason really matter?”

I smiled. “Of course not. God, you look just like your mother. How old are you?”

That mischievous light returned to her eyes. “Part of me wants to make you guess. But, I guess you have had enough of a shock. I am 30 years old this month.”

Thirty. My god. I realized I was sitting next to my daughter twenty-seven years after I had put her to bed. My mind reeled like a ship in the midst of a hurricane’s strongest winds trying to make sense of this. Caroline’s smile began to falter, as she once again seemed to read my mind.

“It’s ok dad.”

“I know it is,” I told her. “I know. It’s just such a shock. I mean think about it. The last time I saw you, you were wearing Dora pajamas and we were saying prayers at the foot of a toddler bed!”

The smile returned. “I know. Try seeing things from my point of view. Here I am, just out taking a walk, enjoying the weather, when I see a much younger version of my own father sitting on a bench as if he had every right to be there.”

I smiled. “Hadn’t thought of that. Good point. So…….tell me about yourself! Are you married? Any kids? What do you do? I have about a thousand questions!”

Another smile. Confused this time. “Dad, I don’t think that’s why we're here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I am going on instinct alone here, but something is telling me those questions are the wrong ones. Future events that you will find out about on your own. Answering them right now seems wrong.” She looked down at her hands. “I’m sorry.”

“NO, NO, don’t be.” I took her hands in mine (noticing a wedding ring on the left hand as I did) and looked into her eyes. “I have no more idea what this is all about then you do. If you feel you shouldn’t answer, then don’t! I’m not angry or disappointed.” I thought for a second. “In fact,” I began “I don’t want to know. It would be like reading the end of a great book when you are still in the first couple of chapters. Don’t tell me. I was stupid to have asked.”

She squeezed my hands in hers. Hands that I had last seen much smaller and diligently clasped in prayer (Now I lay me down to sleep). Hands that were now fully grown.

“But Caroline,” I continued. “If I am not here to learn about your future, then why am I here? This isn’t exactly a normal occurrence if you know what I mean.”

“I know dad. And I feel that our time is very short. Don’t ask me how I know that, I just do. I think we are here so I can tell you something. But first I need to ask you a question.”

I shrugged. “Fire away sweetheart.”

She sighed. “This isn’t an easy question to ask, but I feel like I am supposed to ask it. Dad, recently, have you been having doubts about your abilities as a father?”

Her question hit me with all the force of an oncoming car. How could she know? How could ANYONE know? My eyes began to well up again, not in joy this time, but shame.

“How much do you know?” I asked in no more than a whisper.

Her own eyes began to water again as well. “Nothing specific. Like I said, just that weird feeling, a tickle in the back of my mind. I am sorry if I hurt you dad.” She let go of my hands end pulled me into another embrace. I allowed myself of moment of comfort then, putting my hands on her arms, I sat back.

“The answer to your question is yes. Doubts. Fears. You name it.”

She seemed genuinely shocked to hear this. “About what?”

“Everything. About messing up. About not being strong enough. About not being smart enough, the list goes on and on. Caroline, when you came into my life three years ago everything changed. In a good way. In the most amazingly, marvelous way. The love I feel in my heart for you transcends simple words.” As I talked, I forgot I was addressing my daughter at age thirty, instead falling into my very real fears for her at age three. “I love you more than my own life. I want nothing but the best for you. I want to be the perfect father, wanting you to want for nothing. But how can I do that when I can’t even get out of my own way most of the time? How can I possibly expect to be able to do it for you? I am afraid to fail. I am afraid to wake up one day and realize you have grown and moved away and I did not help prepare you for what life has to offer. I don’t think I am up for this job. I know so many other guys who could do so much better than I...” By this point I was crying, tears sliding unheeded down my cheeks. Caroline was crying as well, though she was also smiling.

She took my hands in hers once again. Looked deep into my eyes with her own.
“Listen dad,” she said. “Listen well, because our time here is almost up. You are an amazing father. The most amazing father any girl was ever fortunate enough to call daddy. You did everything right!”

I looked at her, wanting to believe it, wanting to know it was true. “But how?” I pleaded. “How will I know what to do?”

She glanced down to her hands held in mine. Her next words will remain with me until my dying breath.

“Dad, you know how to do this. It is there inside you. I am living proof of that. But the absurdity of this situation may make that hard for you to accept. For you I have aged 27 years in 1 hour. Not exactly stone cold reality is it?”

“No,” I replied. “Reality it ain’t.”

“Reality or not, it doesn’t negate the truth of what I am about to tell you. You asked me how you will know what to do. Let me fall back on the answer for that by looking at what you have done for me. Let me use that to give you the answer you are looking for.”

“Should I write this down,” I joked.

“No,” she replied in all seriousness. “No need. I’m not really telling you anything you don’t already know deep down in your heart. You will remember.”

She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. I was struck again how much she resembled her mother.

“I know you love me dad. I have known it my whole life. Do you know why? Because you have told me everyday of my life that it is so. Sometimes more than once a day. A child needs to hear that from her parents. Needs to know that it is an unshakable, immutable truth. Needs to know that no matter what happens, what goes wrong or right, that she will always have the unconditional love of her father. You make sure she knows this by making it verbal. Every single day.”

“Your little girl also needs to hear from you how beautiful she is. Beautiful and strong. Feed her confidence by allowing her to make her own choices about things as she gets older. Be there to congratulate her when she makes good choices and gently guide, comfort, and be there to confide in when she makes bad ones. Trust me dad, she will make plenty of both.”

A smile here and a rueful laugh. I joined in the laughter, albeit nervously.

“Let her know you are strong for her. But also let her see you are human. Don’t be afraid to let her see you mess up. The best way for her to learn to deal with her own mistakes in life will be to watch how you deal with yours. Let her know you have weaknesses and fears. Let her know that it is ok. Making mistakes is not bad as long as you learn from them in order to avoid them in the future. Equip her for that lesson by letting her see it in you. Let her use this to discover the own strength she carries inside. Strength to be and do whatever she wants in life.”

“Trust her dad. Let her know you trust her. Help her believe in herself by seeing how much you believe in her. You have the awesome power to build her up or tear her down with simple words or glances. When you are proud of her, tell her so. But don’t just tell her you are proud of her, tell her why. Let her know exactly what she has done to make you, the most important man in her life for many years, so proud.”

She stopped and placed her left hand on my cheek.

“Don’t be afraid to hug her too much. There is no such possibility. She will crave your touch, the feeling of your strong arms around her, the silent promise that those arms will always keep her safe. The silent affirmation that you love her and that love will grow and grow over the course of time. Don’t be afraid to talk to her either. Especially when she gets older and the choices she will struggle with take on greater weight. Talk, every morning, every night. Some of my most favorite memories from my teenage years are the conversations we had sitting in those old white rocking chairs out on the old front porch.”

“I love that porch,” I told her.

“I know you do. You still use it to this day. We still have our conversations and they mean as much to me now as then. More even.”

She hugged me then, hugged me tight.

“Don’t be afraid to fail dad,” she whispered in my ear. “Your daughter doesn’t need you to be perfect. She just needs you to be there, with the good and the bad. You do that and she, I, will turn out just fine. Trust me.”

I clutched her tight as she clutched me in return.

“I love you so much sweetheart. And I am so proud of you. I don’t know if I am dreaming or not, but I want you to know that I am proud of you every day. You are so smart, so beautiful, so funny. I don’t know how I got to be so lucky.”

She pulled back, tears once again in free fall.

“I love you so much daddy. I am proud of you. Proud of you for being the amazing father you are, for the even more amazing father you will become. There is no grand secret here. Just be yourself. You have more than enough strength to do it. And you should never hesitate to go to your knees when you feel you don't."

She looked at her watch with a start.

“Oh wow, I gotta be movin on out of here. It’s late!”

She got up to go. I got up with her.

“I don’t know how I came to be here,” I began. “I don’t even know if this is just an exceptionally vivid dream or something else. Whatever it is, I am grateful for the opportunity to have had this talk with you. Do you think it will ever happen again?”

“Under these circumstances? Who knows,” she mused. “But I know you will see me again, in about 27 years.”

“One question I have to know sweetheart,” I begged.

“What is it?”

I licked my lips. “Will I still have my hair in 28 years?”

She laughed at that, the same combined snort-squeal kind of laugh her mother has. “Oh dad! Some things are better left to be discovered!”

She gave me a hug then.

“Time for you to be going. There is a little girl in a Dora bed that will be waking up soon wanting to see her daddy. Do you want to know why?”

“Why,” I asked.

“Because she loves him with all her tiny little heart. And she knows he loves her just the same. There is no better way to grow up. Goodbye daddy.”

“Goodbye Caroline. I am looking forward to those conversations on the porch.”

She laughed as she turned to walk back the way she had come. “I am sure you are.”

I watched her go, a light spring in her step, the setting sun catching her hair and setting it aglow with life. Just before she got to the crest of the hill she turned and waved. I waved back, my heart so full of love for her that it felt ready to explode. I sat back on my bench as two little girls walked by. They looked to be about 6 or 7 years old, walking hand in hand, singing some song as they walked the path together. I laid my head back, listening to their voices.

The next thing I knew my alarm was going off and I heard Caroline calling for me from her room. I dashed out of bed, leaving my wife bleary eyed and startled in the spot next to me. I ran down the hall and burst into Caroline’s room.

“Daddddyyy!!” The voice of my three year old angel pierced my heart.

“Caroline!!!” I sing-songed in return. She rolled out of her bed and ran over to me. I swept her up in my arms, laughing with her as she squeezed my neck. I kissed her on the cheek and told her how much I loved her.

“I love you to daddy,” she said. “I had a dream daddy!”

“Really,” I asked her. “You had a dream? What did you dream about?”

She leaned back in my arms and looked me straight in the eye.

“I dreamed bout you!”

“About me? What was I doing?”

“Sitting on a chair in a park. I was there too and you and me we talked and talked...we talked a long time.”

Goosebumps erupted from shoulder to wrist.

“Really? What...what did we talk about?” I managed to get out.

“I don't remember. I hugged you a lot. I saw a doggy playing too. Please put me down...I wanna play with my animals.”

Moving in slow motion, like I was encased in a crate of molasses, I let Caroline get down. She ran over and began rooting around in her toy box for her stuffed animals to play with. I sat down next to her, eyes wide, wondering exactly what it was that transpired between us overnight. Simple, yet coincidental dream? Time travel? Something else? Who knows? I don’t really care. It is an experience that has changed me, real or not, and it is an experience I will cherish for the rest of my life.

As bald or as full of hair as it may or may not be.

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