Sitting on benches

I’m sitting on a bench on the side of a cliff, looking out over an empty beach, a tranquil sea. It’s 9pm, still light with the sun just setting, casting a gentle red hue. I have my good buddy for company. We don’t say much, content to sit side by side, and reflect.

There are quite a few benches tucked into the side of the cliff, and despite the silence, it’s a busy evening.

A young couple with a baby have claimed the bench at the utmost top of the cliff. They fuss over their new addition; laugh as they try to take family selfies.

Half way down a woman sits with her legs crossed, eyes closed and humming. I think she’s meditating.

An old man makes his way to the top before selecting an empty bench. He lowers himself down slowly. His head eventually drops forward; I think he’s nodded off.

Another woman sits down on the bench next to mine. She also has a dog, small and fluffy. Our canines greet enthusiastically, as only dogs do, but we find it sufficient to simply acknowledge each other with a smile.

Eventually I will make my way back… but for now, I’m happy to sit and ponder.