Our Bench

As we stroll alongside the glistening lake, I notice a few benches adorned with plaques or inscriptions, honoring the beloved individuals whose loved ones have dedicated these spots to them. The benches are mostly new and well cared for. Some made from the local pink flagstone and some of beautiful wood. A heartfelt representation of their persons favorite view immortalized on their behalf.

The dogs, constantly urging us along our path, we come across a rather unassuming sight: a weathered wooden bench nestled amidst the serene shores of the lake. I may have missed it if I hadn’t stopped to tie my boot laces. Despite its somewhat neglected appearance, with warped boards and peeling paint, the bench exudes a sturdy and sound presence. It bears no inscription, dedication, or claimant, suggesting that it has stood witness to countless memories and moments of solace over the years.

I yell ahead to my husband of many lifetimes “I claim this bench as our own!.”

This worn bench has been around for quite some time, just like us. It’s witnessed some breathtaking beauty and has likely provided a much-needed break and respite to someone who was feeling weary, a place to rest for those who felt they couldn’t go on. Despite enduring the relentless pounding of the sun for days on end and the powerful winds from the west for countless nights, it stands tall and sturdy, bearing the scars of its experiences.

Yet here it is, an old and weathered bench, still standing strong, like us.