Healing

• Linly Wang, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2010

The city moves so fast sometimes. In the blur of car horns and feet, you can forget that the cars belong to someone, that the feet are attached to people. Everything blends into a one big consuming mass that makes way too much noise and lacks life. It’s hard to get some distance from it all but I’ve found Hyde Park to be a great place to start. It’s a huge expanse of green, a real breath of fresh air, smack in the middle of the soul-less grey that makes up our city.
I like the green. I like the huge pretentious Greek-looking fountain in the middle. I like that there are no screaming kids with footballs and screaming parents with foot-sores. I like how it all says stop, take a rest, sit under my trees and I like that people listen.
I was there once, sitting under a tree, when a man with a cane walked past. He stopped five or so metres away and lowered himself onto a park bench, so slowly that I could swear I heard his bones creak with the effort. The cane was then lifted carefully with both hands and placed across his lap. He was looking over at the Greek-looking fountain but I don’t think he was really seeing anything. Whether it was the cane or simply the way he held himself, I’d never seen a man look so tired. His face was creased in all the wrong places; I could see the frown etched into his features and the droop in his mouth. His eyes were hooded and glassy, as if he’d seen too much and was scared to see anymore. His neck was bent over, making his head look far too heavy and the hands, though crossed neatly on top of the cane, were shaking slightly. He was barely there, soul-less.
Just watching him, I could see it all. I could see the disastrous first marriage and the lengthy divorce. I could see the exhausting low-paying career and the financial ruin. I could see a battle with cancer and the in-out-in relationship with the hospital. I could see child abuse, drug abuse, assault, drinking and despair. I could see everything that was wrong with the way we stumble through our lives and so I looked away.
There was a little boy holding a balloon who was sitting by the fountain. As I watched, he ran over to a man on a park bench and started to climb onto his lap. Not until the man removed a cane from his lap to make space did I realise who he was. Oh, the difference. There were no frown lines, instead there were dimples and twinkling eyes. His back was straight and they were both laughing, fighting over the balloon. I could suddenly see family picnics, days at the beach and weekend barbecues. I could see belonging and love. I could see soul, rather than soul-less and that’s exactly how it should be.